


The Darkness at the End of the Tunnel

by bruised_ambition



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: And maybe a hot chocolate, Angst and Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Explosions, F/M, Quick scene involving needles but nothing graphic, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:20:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 40,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23433811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bruised_ambition/pseuds/bruised_ambition
Summary: Bucky and Steve race to Siberia to stop Zemo - but what if the mission report had been a ruse and there was something else waiting for them at the bunker?(I didn't like the end of Civil War so I highjacked it)
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 31
Kudos: 86





	1. Chapter 1

The other five Winter Soldiers were dead, tiny holes in the side of their containment units mirroring the holes in their foreheads. Bucky’s own unit was at the head of the room but there was an even number of units on each side of the room. The last one was set apart slightly, the monitoring system somehow still going. It was impenetrable though, the glass pitch black.

“What was that one?” Tony asked, eyeing it uneasily.

“Not a soldier.” Buck replied, uneasy himself. Everything here set his teeth on edge and he’d never have voluntarily stepped foot in the place again - if Steve hadn’t needed him.

“No bullet holes.” Steve noted. He bit something back as Tony poked at the control panel, careful not to roll his eyes. Bucky caught the movement and gave a faint grin.

“There’s a heartbeat in there.” He looked up but the glass gave nothing away. “Slow. Suspended animation, maybe.”

“They called it a failed experiment.” Bucky regarded it thoughtfully. There was something he should be remembering about it but the harder he tried the more slippery the memory became.

“Winter Soldier 2.0?” Tony wondered.

“Can you light it up?” Steve asked.

“I can’t read Russian.” Tony glanced at Bucky, who moved forward.

“Warnings.” He touched the metal plate with his metal fingers, the sound tiny in such a huge space. “She’s not a soldier.”

“She?” Steve came to stand on Bucky’s other side.

“That’s what it says.” They all looked up.

“They’re keeping someone in the dark in there?”

“Light it up.” Tony took a step back. “Or I will.” One of his hand blasters lit.

“Still playing the hero?” The voice echoed through the speaker system and all three turned; Zemo was sitting inside the missile control room, staring at them from behind the safety of six-inch glass.

“Who’s in there?” Tony demanded. “Who is worth all this trouble?”

“The Avengers have crushed every mortal enemy they have.” Zemo smiled faintly. “So confident, so untouchable. So terrifying for everyone else.” He tilted his head. “What would it take, to shake the confidence of so-called superheroes?”

“What’s in there?” Steve strode across the floor, glaring at the man through the tiny gap. Zemo’s smile grew and he leaned forward.

“I imagine the Sokovian people were in awe of their heroes, performing such feats in front of them, around them. Killing them.” Zemo’s smile disappeared. “Terrifying them, then returning home to celebrate their deeds.” He tilted his head. “Yes, a little terror is good for everyone, especially those who inflict it without care.” Pressing a button on the panel in front of him, he watched as the three men turned to the containment unit. Green lights flashed along the bottom and red warning lights started flashing along the length of the room.

“That’s always a good sign.” Tony disappeared into his helmet and Bucky lifted his rifle, dropping into the stance of a soldier ready to fire.

A light came on inside the tube, flooding it with muted light.

The other tubes containing soldiers were air-filled, the occupants locked into place in chair-shaped frames. This one was different. The occupant was suspended in what looked like a thick gel, a breathing mask covering most of her face and obscuring her features. Splayed out, she looked like a display from a natural history museum. Something black was wrapped around one ankle, extending like a ribbon to pool at the bottom. While she was unmoving, the ribbon was spinning lazily, as though caught in a whirlpool.

There was a metallic squeal as some long-seized machinery rumbled into life, and the glass started to lift.

“Cap?” Tony’s voice betrayed his nerves even as he lifted off the ground, coming to hover several feet above Bucky’s head. “Cap’s sidekick?”

“We were frozen.” Bucky muttered. “She’s definitely not one of us.”

The gel slid out of the widening gap, draining into a channel and away, but the black shape moved the other way, winding up from the floor, around the woman’s legs and waist before disappearing into her hair. The movement was familiar enough to Bucky that he let the rifle drop slightly, trying to let the memory take on more substance. Above him, Tony had no such hesitation, his weaponry powering up.

The woman fell in slow motion, sliding onto the floor as the glass retracted fully, and there was a hiss as the breathing apparatus detached from the ceiling of the unity. A jet of water started streaming into the unit, washing all the gel towards the drain.

“She look familiar to you?” Steve asked drawing in a little closer. She had black hair, currently plastered to her skull by the goo she’d been suspended in. Her clothing covered her torso and legs but were likewise sopping. The black shape spread out on the floor around her, stubbornly refusing to disappear under the light.

“She doesn’t look like much of a threat right now.” Steve frowned.

“Neither did Wanda.” Tony remarked. “Soldier boy, exactly what did that warning label say?”

“She’s dangerous, and to make sure the lights are on before the unit is opened.” Bucky didn’t take his eyes off the woman, who hadn’t moved a muscle. He was sure he didn’t know who she was, but then, his own mind wasn’t exactly to be trusted, especially here.

“Okay, I’m open to suggestions.” Tony dropped back to the ground. There was a moment of silence, then a hand reached up and pulled the mask away, dropping it onto the floor. She took several deep breaths but otherwise didn’t move.

“Ask her who she is.” Steve said softly.

“ _Kto ty_.” Bucky translated but she didn’t reply. He glanced at Steve. “If she’s anything like them,” a head jerk towards the defunct soldiers, “she’ll need time. You can’t just pop one of these open and get a functioning person.”

Steve turned to look back at Zemo but the control room was empty. Whatever he’d come all this way for, dumping an unknown, unconscious threat on them seemed to be it. The thought didn’t sit well with him.

“We need to find out why she’s here.” He looked around but there was a definite lack of filing cabinets filled with convenient answers.

“This is an offline facility.” Bucky offered. “There’s no digital footprint for this place. Strictly off the books.”

“So nothing to hack.” Tony sounded disappointed.

“ _Kto ty_.” Bucky repeated, sounding less friendly than he had the first time. She rolled onto her back, taking deep dragging breaths and wiping gel from her hair. “ _Ovet'te mne_.”

Her hand dropped back to the floor and she lay still for a moment, before slowly sitting up.

“Layal.” She sat up, rubbing lumps of glycol from her face. “I am Layal.” Her voice was hoarse; she hadn’t used it for some time, Bucky assumed.

“Why are you here?”

“Storage.” She rubbed her eyes. “It’s too bright.”

“Storage? What does that mean?” Steve asked.

“Who are you?” She dropped her hands and looked at him. He took an involuntary step backwards as Bucky lifted the rifle higher and Tony’s gloves flared to life.

Her eyes were completely black.

Bucky’s own eyes widened in shock even as his rifle swung around to bear. He knew those eyes. They’d been haunting him since Washington. Every nightmare, every memory, was overseen by those eyes. They’d watched him here, between missions. She’d been here when he was still the Soldier, been watching when he’d been pulled in and out of his containment unit, when he’d been mistreated.

She’d watched with compassion, unable to help. The black shape that she wore like a cloak used to whip itself into a frenzy when he was in the master unit, when they were torturing him, and when the handlers noticed, they flooded her tube with light, driving the shape into hiding.

In his nightmares, those eyes were his only tether.


	2. Chapter 2

“Forget the who, what are you?” Tony asked into the silence. She seemed to glance at him but it was hard to tell - her entire eye was black, not just the iris. The effect was unnerving, to say the least.

“What you do mean, storage?” Steve asked.

Ignoring them both, she glanced up as water began to wind down, turning into a trickle. It must have been freezing but she showed no sign of noticing, turning instead to stare at Bucky, who shivered under a strong sense of deja vu.

“Do you know me?” He asked.

“Soldat.” She replied, clearing her throat. “Why are you letting me out?”

“Do you know him?” Tony asked.

“I...” She glanced down; it was difficult to tell what she was looking at, since she had no discernible pupils. The black thing that had wrapped itself around her shivered but she seemed unconcerned.

“What is that?” Tony asked.

“You’ve got your orders?” She asked Bucky. “Are you here to kill me?”

“I don’t know you.” Bucky replied, not sure if he was telling the truth. Her eyes widened in surprise.

“You’re... not empty.” She leaned forward, one hand disappearing into the blackness. “What’s your name, Soldat?”

“Bucky. My name is Bucky.”

“Huh.” She seemed to consider this for a long moment, then regarded Steve curiously. Bucky was right, Steve realised; she seemed to be waking up more fully.

“What do you know him as?” Steve asked.

“Soldat. Nothing less.”

The phrasing was odd but her voice was still scratchy, as though she hadn’t spoken in some time. Maybe she wanted to conserve her words. Maybe her mind was still thawing.

“You’re a Hydra asset?” Tony asked.

“What’s a Hydra?”

“Who was keeping you here?” Steve asked patiently.

“Men.” That wasn’t very helpful. She tilted her head, those black eyes taking in Steve’s tense posture, and made more of an effort. “I don’t know who they were. They wanted...” She hesitated, searching for the right words. After a long moment, she said something in Russian, flicking her hands in frustration.

“They wanted to turn her into a weapon.” Bucky translated. “But they couldn’t decide how.”

“Where are you from? You speak English well.” Steve was watching for any telltale sign but her body language was muted. She should have been cold, sitting on the wet floor, but there was no sign of shock. There was no sign of anything. She was unusually still, except for her eyes, which was moving between each of the them in turn, assessing them.

“I don’t know.”

“But you’re not Russian.” Bucky said.

“No. Russian is the language of the captors. I know it but it is not mine, maybe.” Again, her phrasing seemed strange, her words detached. Steve wondered if English wasn’t her first language, if maybe she was using it because she’d heard them do so.

“You know your name but not where you’re from?” Tony asked, impatience clear in the metallic voice. She flinched. “What’s that black stuff?”

“It’s very bright in here.” She said, squinting.

“Keep the lights on.” Bucky murmured.

“Light hurts.” She rested her chin on her knees, her words a flat statement.

“The light hurts you?” He knew it made the black shadow retreat, until the handlers had enough and turned the lights down. When that happened, the entire tube turned utterly black, as if hiding the occupant from more ill treatment.

“It does. But not yet. Maybe... ten minutes before I yield.”

“You could get back in your unit.” Tony suggested. “We could refill it.”

“Tony!” Steve wheeled around to face him.

“It’s a viable option.” Stark protested. “We don’t know who she is or why she’s in a cage in a hidden base run by the people who have been trying to destroy civilisation. She’s wearing a weird black goo that FRIDAY can’t even detect. She says she’s a potential weapon. Putting her back until we find more information isn’t the worst idea I’ve had today.”

“Do you want to go back under?” Bucky asked. There was something in his voice that caught Steve’s attention - Bucky knew her, somehow, and he didn’t think she was an enemy. The fact he wasn’t making it obvious didn’t surprise Steve, not with Tony on edge. Whatever peace there was among them was tenuous at best and Steve knew it wouldn’t withstand Bucky being questioned. He looked like he wasn’t sure of the answers himself.

“I have a choice?” The idea seemed to intrigue her. “That is something new.”

“Do you?” Steve asked. In spite of Bucky’s reluctance, Tony was right; until they had more information, it might be the best idea. Zemo had been convinced the unit had contained terror but he’d also fled before it opened. It was possible he’d made assumptions and guessed wrong - but the rest of his plan had been meticulously planned and well-executed, which made that unlikely. Steve knew that if Bucky could come through a stint in a Hydra storage unit, he had to trust this girl deserved a second chance just as much. At least until she proved otherwise.

“I don’t like it.” She said now. “Body can sleep, mind cannot.”

“You were awake in there?” Bucky asked.

“Awake, yes.” A shudder ran through her and she looked at the floor. “Saw too much.”

Steve could feel Tony glance at him, could feel the incredulity even through Tony’s helmet.

“You could be a threat.” Bucky didn’t really think so but felt compelled to point it out. She turned her eyes to him.

“I could be.” She agreed. “But I think maybe I’m not. I can only protect.”

“How did you come to be here?” Steve asked.

“I don’t know. There was darkness, then light.” She glanced up at the spinning red lights. “Too much light.” Looking away from them, she shook her head as if trying to dislodge the brightness from her eyes. “Too many words.”

With that, she pulled her hair forward until it covered her face and slumped against the back wall.

“We need to get SHIELD up here to deal with her.” Tony had retracted the helmet once it was clear that the girl - Layal, Bucky reminded him - was asleep or unconscious.

“You want to tell them what we’re doing here? SHIELD can’t be trusted with Hydra intel or... assets.” Steve finished lamely, not sure what they were dealing with.

“We can’t leave her here. Unless you want to figure out how to refill her tank and put her back on ice. If she wanders out into the world with those eyes...” Tony shook his head.

“We can’t leave her here.” Bucky said quietly. “She’s out of containment now, she can’t go back in.”

“Are you sure you don’t recognise her?” Tony asked. “She’s definitely not a soldier?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yeah, that’s a whole other problem.” Tony muttered. “She needs to be confined until we figure out what she is and where she came from.”

“But we’re not calling SHIELD for that.” Steve asserted. “Not after everything that’s happened.”

“You think she’s a victim? Her eyes are black holes!” Tony was losing his patience. Turning, he kicked the desk bolted to the floor in the middle of the room. Bucky glanced towards the tube but Layal hadn’t moved. “They don’t store victims in top secret vaults with super soldiers on ice. She can’t be trusted until we figure out what she is.”

“I have a solution.” The new voice had all three men whirling into defensive positions. T’Challa was standing several feet behind them, his head bare. “Zemo is waiting for us on the surface, however unwilling. He will be restrained until he can be surrendered to the Wakandan government.”

“You’re taking him?” Tony asked. “But-“

“He assassinated our king.” T’Challa interrupted. “He will face our court. But that one,” He inclined his chin at the figure in the corner, “That one is unknown. If your organisation is not to be trusted, she will be contained alongside Zemo and taken to the safety of Wakanda. We will find out what she is and where she came from.”

“You can help her?” Bucky asked.

“I can help you both.” That surprised the former Soldier, who looked to Steve, unsure what to say. The Wakandan had spent the better part of a week trying to run him down; he wasn’t sure what to make of this turn of events. “Zemo tried to use you as part of his machinations. I will not participate in his plan, but you have need of our help. You are too dangerous to remain as you are.”

“You’re right.” Bucky nodded. “He turned me too easily. Can you really help me?”

“We can try.”

“What about everything you _did_ do?” Tony asked.

“It wasn’t him.” Steve scowled.

“He’ll have to answer.” Tony insisted.

“I know it.” Bucky was looking at Layal. “Maybe she deserves help more than I do. Maybe she doesn’t.” He turned to look at T’Challa, “Maybe you can’t help either of us. But I guess we have to try.”

“You’re taking me out?” Layal wasn’t asleep after all. Her hair still hiding her face, she lifted her head slightly. “Outside?”

“This is crazy.” Tony shook his head. “You can’t be seriously considering this.”

“Have you been outside before?” Bucky asked.

“I don’t know.” She pulled her hair back, her eyes startling against the pallor of her skin.

“Is it dangerous?” Steve asked. “If we take you outside?”

“If you are with me and I am safe, then you are safe.”

“What’s that even mean?” Tony demanded.

“It means I will offer you safe passage from this place.” T’Challa said firmly. Tony rolled his eyes.

“That’s it.” His helmet slid back into place. “You’ve all succumbed to the cold. I’m going home and I don’t want any unwanted Hydra strays smuggled into your room.” He pointed at Steve. “You’re digging yourself a hole with this one, Rogers.”

“I’m not leaving her here.” Steve said firmly.

“Your Highness.” Tony lifted off, hovering six inches above the floor. “Hopefully your bodyguards are enough.” With that reassuring statement, he was gone.

“He does not like being contradicted.” T’Challa observed.

“Well, he’s had a rough day.” Steve shrugged. T’Challa stepped past him to stand at the edge of the containment unit.

“Can you stand?” He asked.

“No.” Layal shook her head. “Maybe. I haven’t been allowed to try.”

“Are you dangerous to touch?”

“No.”

“Will you let us help you?”

“Why would you help me?” Sitting in the corner of a giant test tube, sopping wet, staring at three large men all armed to the teeth, she should have looked pathetic but those eyes were reminding Steve of a predator, backed into a corner.

“This is a bad place.”

She considered this. Behind her, the light seemed to retreat. Blackness spread out behind her and up the wall, flexing before shrinking down around her. T’Challa raised his eyebrows.

“Do you control that?” He asked curiously.

“It is me.” She rolled forward onto her knees and got to her feet, managing to keep her balance. “It’s why they use the lights.” T’Challa held her gaze for a long moment before nodding, apparently satisfied with her explanation.

“Zemo is waiting.” He turned to Steve. “I do not imagine that Stark will wait long before summoning a team to sweep this facility.”

Layal nodded and took a tentative step towards him. Her legs buckled and she pitched forward. She landed awkwardly, black shapes spilling across the floor. Bucky shouldered his gun and waited until she had found her balance, then stepped forward, his metal hand extended. She looked at it and rolled back onto her heels, standing up more carefully and hugging her forearms, while the black shape flowed back to her bare feet.

“When were you last out?” He asked quietly. He hadn’t remembered much from his time under but every so often when he was dragged back into the world things seemed far more disconcerting than they should. He could remember the weakness in his limbs when he hadn’t been given enough sustenance, and the frustration that came with it.

“I don’t know.” She took an experimental step, then relaxed slightly and followed him obediently, gaining confidence with every step. Steve fell in behind and they followed T’Challa out of the complex.

Reaching the staircase, they paused. The lights were dimmer out here and blackness pooled around Layal’s feet.

“Can you make it?” Bucky asked. She glanced at him, her eyes shining in the dim light. He wondered what her night vision was like. It would be a useful tool for a Soldier, although the rest of her was not exactly prime assassin material.

“I don’t know.” She put one foot on the first step. The blackness spread up, flowing uphill easily. She made it up six steps before stumbling, scowling as she leaned against the wall.

“Do you need help?” Steve asked, not really wanting to touch her.

“No. But I don’t want to scare you.”

“It will take more than a shadow to scare this man.” T’Challa told her, a faint smile on his face.

“Do what you need to.” Steve tried to sound reassuring but his fist tightened against his shield.

“Go up.” She leaned back against the wall. “I will meet you at the top.”

“You first.” Steve didn’t like the idea of leaving her below them, although sending her up first meant possibly climbing towards danger.

She slipped back into the corner, where the light was dimmest. Black swirled around her and reached up, the shadows suddenly moving, and she was gone. Bucky and Steve exchanged glances but T’Challa didn’t hesitate, bounding up the stairs like it was a race.

“You sure about this?” Steve asked.

“I can’t leave her here.” Bucky started up the steps.

“Okay.” That was good enough for Steve.

Layal was decidedly more wobbly at the top of the stairs, the shadow dragging behind her. Trailing out after the two supersoldiers, she stepped cautiously into the snow but showed no sign of discomfort as her bare toes disappeared into the powder. The moon had risen and she stared up the star-filled sky, her mouth falling open in surprise. She seemed to forget the men were there, staring up until Bucky approached. She turned and smiled at him, feet crunching in the snow as she followed him into the plane, trying to look at everything at once. Settling on the floor at the back of the cabin, she was asleep before they even got Zemo stowed - which was just as well, as he caught sight of her and went so white Steve was sure he was going to flake out.

He refused to talk though, about what he knew or why Layal was so dangerous. Instead, he watched her without blinking, until exhaustion took over and he drifted into an uneasy sleep.

Bucky and Steve didn’t need sleep and instead sat in silence, watching both the prisoner and the recently-released stranger. Layal was curled up on the floor, darkness wrapped around her like a blanket.

“You don’t remember anything?” Steve asked softly.

“The tank wasn’t always black.” Bucky replied. He’d been trying to remember since they boarded; any information he could offer would be a contribution towards the debt he was incurring by accepting their help - but he couldn’t explain her eyes and what they meant. Not until he’d made certain of it himself. “They turned the lights on and her shadow would try and hide.”

“Do you know what she was there for?”

“No. I remember... she would watch. She couldn’t move but they knew when she was awake. She made them nervous.”

“She’s certainly made Zemo nervous.”

“I wish I could remember.”

“We’ll find out.” Steve couldn’t offer much more than that. He knew T’Challa had technology at his disposal years ahead of anything SHIELD had if their current transport was anything to go by but between Bucky’s ingrained programming and the mystery that was wrapped in shadows four feet away, he wasn’t sure anyone would be able to pick apart the challenges in front of them.


	3. Chapter 3

Layal’s hand was resting on her leg. It was so long since she’d been able move her limbs that her fingers wouldn’t stay still. Flexing them slowly, she marvelled at how easy it seemed, out of the containment unit. She could feel her leg, feel the floor beneath her. It was deliciously _real_ and she was too enamoured of it all to sleep. Instead, she tugged her shadow closer and opened her eyes.

The Soldier - Bucky, he’d said - was sitting next to his companion. Both were dressed for combat but were sitting comfortably. The other man, the one who’d started the opening sequence on her tank, was asleep opposite them, twitching nervously.

He was scared of her. She didn’t know why but she had other things to think about.

She shifted her gaze back to the two men. Wrapped in shadow, they couldn’t see her but she could see everything; her shadows hid her from the world but let her see what she would. Now, she could see the exhaustion etched on both men’s faces, see the tension in their shoulders.

They weren’t scared of her, she didn’t think, but they were curious. They were right to be, she supposed.

As for herself, she was curious about Bucky. She’d seen him being prepped for missions. And what happened to him at the end of each one. Now, he seemed very different; less sure but more present. And he’d reached for her hand, in spite of the shadow she cast. That had startled her - she didn’t think anyone had ever touched her before. She wondered if she should have let him.

She stopped that thought and wondered where she was. The idea of not being in the unit any more had seemed like a good one but now she wasn’t so sure. The floor was moving and it occurred to her that she may have stumbled into a trap. Had she gotten herself out of safety and into danger?

The Soldier was good at what he did. Even if he was no longer empty, he was still dangerous. She needed to remember that.

The flight passed uneventfully but Bucky was feeling ragged by the time they arrived. Zemo was a bundle of nerves, which put him on edge. The man had been so calm and assured for almost the entirety of his operation but one glimpse of Layal and he was shaking like a leaf. Racking his brain for most of the trip, Bucky had dredged up memories, glimpses of the woman in the tank, but aside from some tantalising hints, he could only recall that much of the time the tank was darkened. If she’d been hiding, he couldn’t blame her.

Maybe it was the darkness that surrounded her that had Zemo so nervous. It seemed to have wrapped around her, covering her from head to foot until she was nothing more than a dark blur at the back of the cabin. At least it hid her eyes. They saw too much, especially when they looked towards him.

He’d had an unnerving sense of deja vu when their eyes had met earlier. They’d locked gazes more than once before today, her black gaze seeing far more than he liked. The thought made him queasy. What did she know about him, that he didn’t? Had he imagined that it was compassion on her face? Were the eyes of his nightmares watching for his safety, or for his fall?

Four hours of such cryptic thoughts did him no favours and by the time the plane landed, Bucky was ready to hand his weapon to Steve and find a nice black hole to bury himself in.

Maybe Layal was onto something with her shadows, he thought grimly.

T’Challa had Zemo dealt with first, the Sokovian visibly relieved to be removed from their presence. Once he was safely on his way to a cell, the king turned to Bucky and Steve. Behind them, Layal was standing with her head bowed, her hands covering her eyes.

“Are you all right?” The king asked.

“Bright.” She replied.

“Is it painful?” T’Challa nodded to one of the attendants lining the wall and the lights began to fade.

“No. Uneasy.” She dropped her hands, her eyes glowing. “Thank you.” The shadows crept along her hands, forming intricate patterns before sliding away again.

“My sister is going to love solving you.” T’Challa said gravely.

“You are not afraid.”

“No.”

“That is good.” She dropped her gaze again, looking at her toes.

“Captain.” T’Challa turned to Steve, who stood slightly taller. Bucky bit down on a smile. “We will see these two to their quarters and then we will speak.”

Their quarters proved to be a lab of some kind, run by a teenager. Bucky kept his mouth shut as he was shown where he’d be sleeping for now - Shuri wanted to monitor them until she had a good baseline set of things to look at. What they were, Bucky missed; he was too busy watching Layal.

The room was lit from the walls, a soft light that managed to penetrate every corner without becoming glaring.

Layal, on stepping into the room, had frozen, her eyes widening. Her shadow had retracted, slinking down to hide beneath her feet. As he watched, she seemed to shrink slightly, tensing up without appearing to move at all.

“Um.” He cleared his throat. “Are you all right?”

She turned to look at him, her face completely blank, and Bucky jerked back, his pulse jumping in recognition. She hadn’t just been a witness to the events that happened in the bunker, he remembered. She’d had that look on her face the few times she was brought out of the tank and placed in front of the spotlights.

“Buck?” Steve had been paying attention to Shuri but now he was staring in Bucky in concern.

“Can we turn the lights down please?” He asked, still watching Layal. The look on her face was only the first step, he remembered. Next came something worse.

Shuri looked at the bracelet she was wearing and the bright room suddenly dipped into twilight. Layal sagged, swaying for a moment, then dropped.

Steve moved but Bucky was quicker. Scooping her up, he followed Shuri’s instructions, setting her down on a cot in an alcove.

“Too much light?” Bucky suggested.

“She was in preservation.” Shuri brushed off his suggestion. “Did you feed her when she woke up?”

“No.” Steve replied, looking somewhat abashed.

“She might not have eaten for several years.” Shuri looked at the two of them like they were knuckleheads. Which, Bucky supposed, they were. He knew exactly how starved you could be when your gap between breakfast and lunch was a decade or more. “She can rest while we figure out your brain, tin man.”

By the time Shuri was satisfied that she’d run every test ever invented, Bucky knew he’d been put into the care of someone who could give pre-serum Steve a run for his money. His head was whirling trying to keep up and eventually he’d shut down, staring at the rolling shadow in the corner of the room instead.

Layal was buried in the middle of the darkness, which was rotating slowly. He wondered if she were asleep, then caught himself. So far as he remembered, which admittedly wasn’t much, she never slept. Every time he was awake she’d been watching, unless the tank was black. He wondered if that was a reflex, a way for her to try and hold onto her sanity.

If she still had it. There was a good chance that he was a terrible judge of character and he’d done nothing but unleash a monster onto an unsuspecting country. On top of everything else, that would not endear him to T’Challa, whose offer of help seemed like a miracle. He didn’t know if Shuri would truly be able to help him but he was trying to be optimistic. It was hard not to be, with her determination and how much she was clearly relishing the challenge.

The shadow rolled back into itself to reveal Layal sitting on the floor next to the bed, watching him silently. Her fingers splayed across the floor, black lines snaking around her arms. They were moving, mimicking the patterns etched on the walls. He tried to smile reassuringly; she started as though she’d assumed she was invisible. She was probably used to being ignored, he guessed, while the Soldiers demanded the attentions of their handlers.

He glanced around his assigned alcove. The privacy panels were pushed back against the wall but he’d been assured they were sound- and light-proof, presumably so he could enjoy his nightmares without disturbing anyone else. The bed was better than he was used to and although he didn’t need sleep like regular people, he was starting to crave the idea of a few hours’ oblivion.

He wanted to let his mind wander, too, having learnt that his memories needed to bubble to the surface by themselves. Forcing them sent them scattering and he desperately wanted to be able reassure his hosts that both he and his former tank mate were not immediate threats.

He flexed his metal hand, listening to the soft sound of metal on metal. He’d come to believe that his whole life had been shaped around his duties as the Soldier and that he’d been built for a purpose. Rediscovering the truth was a process that had proved difficult and frustrating and he could only guess at how much further he had to push to find real peace, but dislodging the trigger words from his subconscious would be a huge step.

He stretched the fingers out, watching as they bent back far further than his own hand was capable of. Shedding his arm would be another huge step, a physical rejection of Hydra and what had been done to him... but he wasn’t ready yet. If Shuri succeeded the arm would follow, but until then he had an odd idea that he’d keep his body whole while his mind was still fractured. When one was healed, the other could be broken and reset.

Layal had woken flat on her back on some kind of cot. Not used to the position she’d panicked and rolled off, hiding the movement behind a wall of protective darkness. The floor was smooth and cool and she leaned back against the wall, watching the doctor - Shuri - fuss around the Soldier.

Bucky seemed at ease as she attached things to his fingers and waved equipment over him. In fact, he seemed to engage with her easily and she laughed at him several times. Layal had never seen him so relaxed and she found it encouraging. If he could be himself and be comfortable, then maybe it hadn’t been a mistake to follow him.

The memory of stepping out of the base had already made the risk worth it though. The sky above them had been so full of movement and light - without burning - that she’d let her head fall back to drink it in better. She’d never imagined such a thing had been right above her tank and the sheer size of it was exhilarating. She’d almost cried at the sensation of suddenly being able to breathe and at the beauty in front of her, so far away and so close all at once.

Feeling a smile creep across her face she pressed her hands to the floor, letting the sensation of something solid draw her attention. Bucky was smiling too, watching Shuri examine something on the wall. He shook his head, his smile fading slightly, then turned and met Layal’s gaze.

She’d let her shadow drop without noticing. Her chest tightened in panic but Bucky merely smiled encouragingly at her. Heat warmed her cheeks; she wasn’t supposed to watch people, and she pulled her shadow tight to her arms. Dropping her gaze, she let it spread out around her, feeling the uncomfortable pressure from the light in the walls. When she dared to look up again, Bucky had stretched out on his own bed and was staring at the ceiling.


	4. Chapter 4

“You’re going to get the rest of your team.” Bucky knew it didn’t sit well with Steve that the friends who had backed him at the airport were sitting in cells. The serum might have given him big muscles but even pre-serum Steve had always had a big heart, valuing loyalty and friendship above everything else. And look at where it got him, Bucky thought wryly. Hiding in a semi-invisible country with the most wanted criminal in history.

“I can’t leave them there.” Steve frowned at the view; they were on the balcony above the lab, with Wakanda’s capital city Birnin Zana stretching out in front of them. It was spectacular but Bucky couldn’t muster much enthusiasm to enjoy it.

“I know. I’m surprised you’ve lasted this long.” Bucky forced a smile. “And there’s not even a grumpy colonel forbidding it.”

“I wanted to make sure you were going to be okay.”

“I’ll be fine. Shuri is going to turn me into a guinea pig and I’m gonna sort this out.” He tapped his forehead. “I’ll be worried you’re going to get your dumb ass thrown in prison though.”

“I don’t want you to come and get me, if it happens.”

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Bucky tried to look offended. “This friendship stuff doesn’t go one way, you know.”

“You think I risked everything to get you out of Hydra so we could share a cell?” Steve cracked a grin. “Stay here, get your head mended.”

“You sound like my ma.” Bucky fell silent. He hadn’t thought of his family for a long time; some things were too sensitive, but Steve already knew that and he didn’t need to explain. A heavy hand clamped down on his shoulder.

“I’ll be back when they’re all safe.” Steve promised. “Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone.”

A memory flashed through his mind and he glanced sharply at Steve and knew he was thinking the same thing. They laughed.

“We’ve come a long way since then.” Steve let his hand fall. “It still stands though.”

“Still giving the orders.” Bucky shook his head. “Stay safe.”

“What can you do with that?” Shuri asked, watching the shadow meander across the bed. It retracted as Layal shrugged.

“Hide.”

“Is that all?” The princess looked so disappointed that Bucky laughed, causing Layal to jump. She looked up at Shuri, her expression worried. She tugged her braid nervously; someone had pulled her hair back and braided it, exposing several scars behind her ears.

“May I touch?” Shuri asked, watching one of the tendrils curl around in circles along her forearm. Layal held her arm out, trying not to tense up as Shuri ran a finger along her skin. Bucky, watching from across the room, drifted over to watch, curiosity getting the better of him.

The tendril moved down her wrist and stopped an inch away from Shuri’s fingertip.

“Is it cold? Hot? Ticklish?”

“It just is.” Layal wasn’t sure what she meant.

“And it’s part of you?”

“Yes.”

“Your whole life?”

“I don’t know. Since I can remember.”

Shuri met her eyes briefly before dropping her hand. The shadow swelled, enveloping her arm in the safety of darkness and Layal tugged the sleeves of her tunic down further and tucked both hands into her lap, awaiting the next instruction.

“Have you had enough to eat?”

“I have.” She tilted her head, thinking. “Thank you?”

“My sensors do not know what to make of you.” Shuri informed her. “Your shadow doesn’t seem to be anything but the absence of light, but you can move it.” She watched as patterns snaked up Layal’s arm. “Are you doing that on purpose?”

“Not exactly.” Black eyes regarded the shapes. “I mean, I don’t think about it, it just does.” A tendril peeked out from her sleeve, moving back and forth, before skittering away into nothing.

“And it’s like that? Like a horse swishing its tail?”

“I think maybe that’s true.”

“Studying you is going to be like talking to my brother.” Shuri sighed dramatically. “No straight answers.”

“I’m sorry.” Layal looked slightly alarmed, worried it wasn’t the right thing to say. Bucky reached out to reassure her, freezing when the shadows surged over her shoulder like a shield. Letting his hand drop he settled for a quick grin directed at Shuri. Seeing her flummoxed was going to be entertaining, since it seemed her fuse was as short as Steve’s.

“How did you climb the stairs?” Bucky asked. “It looked like you disappeared.”

She didn’t answer. Instead she closed her eyes, her hands beginning to shake.

“Don’t worry about that.” Shuri brushed the question off, shooting Bucky a black look. “Tell me about the trip here. Did you see much? You would have had a good view of Madagascar.”

“The shade is me.” She said that night. Bucky was almost asleep and thought he might have dreamed it until she spoke again. “Sometimes I’m the shade instead.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“So many questions. So much attention.”

“It’s so they can help.”

“Too many words.” It was so quiet that it was only Bucky’s enhanced hearing that caught it. He wondered how long she’d been alone for. Suddenly becoming the focus of a scientist with a thousand tests and twice as many question must be daunting and he felt a twinge of guilt for taking her out of the base. She probably thought she’d gone from the frying pan into the fire.

She could move though. Fragments of memories danced just out of reach and he tried not to push them but he didn’t need to - the tank that Zemo had activated hadn’t changed much. Filled with a paralysing gel, she’d been thrown in before it had congealed, essentially freezing her in place. It hadn’t mattered to him at the time but he wondered what it would have been like if they’d used the same method on him, unable to even clench his fists. He slid the privacy panels closed slowly, the soft hum of machinery cutting short abruptly.

Being in a new place, with a new roommate, it was no wonder that his dreams were unsettled. Having been haunted and hunted for years, he’d perfected the art of not screaming but the sensors monitoring his alcove weren’t so careful, coming awake with a warning shriek. Deciding he’d had enough sleep he got up, hoping he could remember where the coffee was kept.

Layal was wrapped in darkness, her alcove as pitch black as her unit had been. It was almost like she’d built a solid wall, not even needing the privacy panels to shut the world out. Bucky regarded it as he waited for the coffee to heat. If she really was a weapon, she must have a trigger like he did. He just wasn’t sure how they were going to find it, or what would happen when they did.

Too many words, all right. She’d been in and out of the tank much more often when she was younger but none of the handlers ever bothered to talk to her and she’d fallen out of the habit. She’d listened though, learning about the world outside through bored handlers and mission briefs, and whiled away much of her time imagining what it was like.

She’d never expected it to be so tiring though. Shuri was much nicer than any handler she’d met before, and seemed genuinely interested in what she was doing with her tests and questions. Even so, Layal knew that the lack of answers she had was frustrating the young woman and she felt bad about it, especially after Shuri had been nice enough to show her how to pull her hair out of the way.

Still, there had been no repercussions so far and she’d decided to follow Bucky’s lead. The former Soldier seemed fairly relaxed about answering the questions put to him, apparently picking and choosing his answers as he pleased. It was so completely different from what she’d seen of him before that she found herself watching him from behind her shield.

The Soldier had been terrifying in his utter disdain and complete obedience but Bucky seemed to be a whole different person. He joked and laughed and although he seemed to pause and grow solemn every so often, she hadn’t felt the least bit apprehensive about staying in the same room with him, even though he wasn’t restrained.

“If we activate the Soldier,” Shuri was watching carefully as she spoke, “How do we deactivate him again?”

“Steve likes to knock me out cold.” Bucky tried joking, dread a heavy coil in his belly. Behind his sister, T’Challa was sitting, watching the proceedings in silence. Layal was still behind her curtain, hiding from further questions.

“I want to see what happens in your brain when the triggers happen.”

It made sense, he supposed. And it explained why the King was lurking; it was likely he’d have to be physically put down if things went wrong. The possibility made him queasy.

“You need to say the right words.” Pushing his reluctance aside, he told himself that it would be worth it. “In the right order, with the right inflection.”

“Can you tell us what they are?”

“Some of them. They were kept secure. They couldn’t give the golem the magic phrase.” He tried to grin but the words tasted like sawdust and he swallowed.

“I know them.”

All three turned around. Layal had dropped the black curtain and was sitting on the floor, her shadow pooled around her.

“You heard them?” T’Challa asked.

“Many times.” She turned towards Bucky, her expression curious. “Do you really want to go empty?”

“Yes.” He heard the quavering tone in his voice and flushed, then tried again. “Not really but we need to. We can’t fix what we don’t know.”

“I will say them.” She sounded oddly sad.

“Do you have a trigger?” Bucky asked, remembering his thoughts from the night before.

“No. It never worked.” She lapsed into silence before adding. “They tried.”

“What happened when they tried?” T’Challa asked.

“The big lights.” The shadows jerked and she fell silent.

“When do you want to do this?” Bucky asked abruptly. He remembered what happened under the spotlights. He’d seen it as both himself and as the Soldier. Both memories made him shudder, for very different reasons.

“We have a facility ready.” T’Challa stood. “We will go when you’re ready.”

“Is it bright?” Layal asked shyly.

“We can dim the lighting.” Shuri glanced at T’Challa. “But it’s daylight and we’ll need to go outside to get there.”

“It’s a walk of a few minutes.” T’Challa informed her. She looked to Bucky.

“If it helps.” She stood up.

“Wait.” Shuri leapt up, rummaging in a drawer. “Try these.” She held out a pair of sunglasses. Layal took them carefully, unfolding them. They were made from bamboo, the lenses utterly dark. “They darken the brighter the light gets.”

“Oh.” She turned them over, examining them carefully. “Thank you.” Her voice caught and the two Wakandans exchanged looks.

“They’ll also monitor your vitals so we’ll know how daylight affects you.” Shuri took them from Layal and fitted them to her face. Her eyes hidden, she suddenly looked like much less of a threat, especially since her shadows stopped flicking around and settled down on her skin, taking on the appearance of tattoos. Bucky felt himself relax slightly, then remembered what they were about to do. He wished he’d skipped breakfast; vomiting on the king’s shoes probably wouldn’t make much of an impression.

She’d never been given anything before. Shuri had handed them over as if it were nothing important but not only were they just for her, they would actually help her. Layal had been alarmed at the warmth that bloomed in her chest as she thanked the young scientist, embarrassed that her reaction prompted a knowing look between the siblings.

The glasses made the world around her darker, which suited her perfectly. The uncomfortable pressure from the walls abated and she took a breath, suddenly feeling like a weight had been lifted. She wondered if she would be allowed to keep them on full-time.

Catching sight of Bucky’s expression, her delight shattered. He looked like he was about to be sick, his hands clenched. She frowned, her own expression hidden behind her glasses. She had offered to say the words because he’d seemed agreeable to the idea but now he was sweating and looked like he was ready to fight his way out. She wondered if she could take it back and pretend she’d forgotten the right phrases...

But no, for all that he didn’t want to do it, he seemed determined. If he was prepared to volunteer for such a harrowing experience, then she had no right to refuse him the opportunity.

By the time they arrived at the other side of the plaza Layal was shaking and stumbled against the steps. Both of her escorts helped her up, careful to touch her clothing and not her bare skin. Thanking them, she leaned against the wall and watched as Shuri explained the process to Bucky, who was staring stony-faced at the large chair in the centre of the room.

“Are you all right?” T’Challa asked, coming to stand next to her.

“It’s bright.”

“The sun will be stronger when we leave. There will be transport for you.”

“This is kindness.”

“This is courtesy.” He replied.

“Both are new.” She watched as Bucky climbed into the chair.

“We will do our best to keep everyone safe.”

“If he is empty, he will obey.” There was a sour note in her voice. “I will not let him loose.” Taking her sunglasses off, she turned her black gaze to the king. “I will do this because it is his choice.”

“We are ready.” Shuri had finished fussing with the machinery set up behind the chair. Bucky was trying to look relaxed but his nerves were showing in his clenched fists and rigid posture. Layal and T’Challa moved to stand in front of him.

“Are...” She twisted her fingers into knots; her shadows were surging up and down her forearms, agitated, and T’Challa realised it was the first time he’d heard her say something that wasn’t a response. “Are you sure?”

“Do it.” Bucky spoke roughly. The shadows jerked before flowing down to cover her arms entirely.

“ _Zhelaniye_.”


	5. Chapter 5

Bucky collapsed onto the bed, unable to hold himself up any longer. Shuri had injected him with something to quell the Soldier but it had the unfortunate side effect of making his brain six sizes too big for his head. Wishing he were dead, he curled up and gripped his skull, squeezing as hard as he dared.

The test had invoked the Soldier. Bucky wasn’t sure what had happened, only that the room still had the same number of occupants when he resurfaced and no one seemed injured. Everything else was a minor detail, so far as he was concerned, at least until the agony is his head started to recede.

It was probably good to know that it didn’t take a beating to knock the Soldier out of him, although he wasn’t sure which was a worse prospect.

With any luck, he wouldn’t need either. Shuri had collected enough scans and readings that she could start to pick apart his mind using a simulation. The next time the words were spoken would be after treatment and he prayed they’d result in nothing.

Nausea rolled in and he groaned, the sound making him wince. He felt like he had the worst hangover in history. It had never been this bad before, he was sure.

“Can you sit up?” Shuri’s voice boomed from somewhere behind him.

“Probably.” He muttered, wincing as she laughed.

“I have something for the side effects.” There was a shift in the light as she passed by, putting a glass on the table next to the bed. The change in light reminded him of something and he opened his eyes.

“Is Layal okay?”

“She will be fine. Right now, you’re a lot more pitiful.”

“Thanks.”

“You’ll be staying here for a while, until we have come up with a working model of how to proceed. It has stronger security than the lab.”

“What did I do?” Dread threatened to overtake the nausea and he forced himself to sit up. Shuri was perched on a stool across from the bed.

“Nothing. But the effect was interesting. Layal was right, it’s like you’re empty.”

“It feels like it too.” He managed to pick up the glass with a minimal amount of trembling, thankfully.

“Do you remember anything?”

“Not really. Just...”

“Just?”

“I’m not sure.” He drank. Whatever it was, it was sweet and strong and he started to feel better immediately. “Are you sure she’s all right?”

“She was upset.” Shuri said blandly. Seeing the look on his face, she took pity on him. “T’Challa says witnessing something is different from doing it yourself. She’ll be okay.”

Layal had been returned to her alcove in the lab, where she’d promptly shut the world out behind a wall of darkness. She refused to let anyone in for two days but Shuri was happy to leave her there, keeping an eye on her with the infra-red cameras.

She’d retreated to the corner of the room, eschewing the bed in favour of huddling on the floor, where she spent an hour sobbing. Eventually, she’d cried herself to sleep. T’Challa had wandered in and out of the lab, curious about what Shuri had in mind for Bucky’s brain, and had wondered at the value of a weapon that seemed so fragile.

“Are you sure that’s why she was there?” Shuri asked.

“Zemo has been not been forthcoming with his discoveries.” T’Challa replied grimly.

“Good thing you’re not dependent on one murdering terrorist for answers.” His sister replied coldly.

Agreeing, he’d cast his net wide, unearthing more information in two days than SHIELD had in more than a year. Some of it he passed on to Steve Rogers, who’d ventured out into the world to keep fighting; with SHIELD a shell of its former self, T’Challa couldn’t blame the man for choosing not to wait for someone else to fix things.

Not much of the intel was pertinent to his current mystery though, until one of his spies tracked Zemo’s movements to an apartment in Portland. There, they’d unearthed a cache of documents that were hurriedly bundled up and dispatched straight to Wakanda.

T’Challa read over them carefully, then went down to the lab to see his guest.

Bucky stretched his legs out in front of him, staring at the ceiling. He’d managed to sleep off the residue of the anti-Soldier jab Shuri had given him and was starting to feel a little more like himself, thankfully. Now he had to figure out how to fill his days while he waited on the super-brained teenager to fix him. At least he wasn’t in cold storage. That was enough to keep his spirits high even as he toyed with the notebook in his lap. His bag of journals had been lost to SHIELD, who were probably disinclined to give them back, and he’d mentally shrugged at the idea of beginning again.

This time he didn’t bother to write in code. Anything that he remembered that could help bring the remnants of Hydra to heel would be worth sharing, and anything that helped him rediscover the Bucky he’d been before the Soldier had been thrust upon him was worth mulling over.

Plus, he didn’t feel like a fugitive here. He might be a patient but that was okay. He was still treated like a person, which was another turn of events he took an unexpected pleasure in. He might be easier to please than he was in the old days but he was choosing to think that he was just able to appreciate his new life better, having lived the alternative for too long.

Tapping his pen on the fresh page, he turned back a page to look at the sketch he’d done. Shuri’s chair had been much more comfortable than the one in Siberia but the general idea of the thing made him shiver. It hadn’t been easy to voluntarily sit down and let himself be restrained - but he’d done it. Coming out the other side meant that the Soldier was able to be defeated after all, and he was much more confident now that Shuri could abolish the problem altogether. She’d sent for him earlier in the day, explaining her progress and what theories she still had to test.

Again, the words had washed over Bucky but he’d followed enough to ask when the next trial was going to be. She’d looked startled, surprised that he was eager, but he was determined to beat the Soldier as soon as possible.

At least he could appreciate that his problem was clearly defined and something that could be dealt with. Layal still seemed to be a mystery to everyone, although it was clear to Bucky that she was making an effort.

He hadn’t seen her since the Soldier trial though, and Shuri had been dodging his questions. Maybe he’d head over to the lab to see for himself.

“Do you know the name Ainazi?” T’Challa asked, standing next to the darkness. Between one blink and the next, it dropped, sliding across the floor to curl around Layal’s ankle.

“I do not.”

“It is the name of a small village in Latvia. There was a Hydra base just outside of it. It was a research facility, until there was an accident.” He gestured to the table behind him. “It may explain why Zemo is so scared of you.” He went and sat down, counting to forty before she joined him, sliding into the chair opposite.

“They were experimenting with cold fusion.” Seeing her blank expression, he skipped the details. “Six children had sneaked into a restricted area to play. They were all contaminated and three of them died as a result. The surviving three suffered severe physical changes.”

“The other man asked if I was a hydra.” She stared at her hands, flat on the table.

“Hydra are the people who used your friend as a weapon, kept him empty and caged, and attempted to do the same to you.”

“They have more research rooms?”

“They did. We are finding them. It seems that your one is the only one that still held containment units.”

“The others?”

“There is no trace of them. We have found preliminary reports only, detailing the initial changes you experienced. The other two were sent to other research bases and we are still searching for them. It seems your abilities were stronger than theirs.”

“No abilities. Just darkness. No use to anyone.” She didn’t sound bitter, but he got the impression she was repeating something someone else had told her.

“You said when we met that you protect.”

“When I am allowed.” She lifted her head, finally meeting his eyes. “I could not protect him from what they did to him, and then I did it too.”

T’Challa leaned back in his chair, suddenly understanding why she’d cried for so long.

“Tell me how you protect.” He said softly.

“Do you fear me?” She asked instead.

“Do I have reason to?”

She took a deep breath. “So much... things, happening. Before this, nothing, for so long. I can’t understand everything. I don’t know where I am or why Bucky wants to become Empty. I don’t know if I am safe for you, or if this place is safe for me. It’s easier to be in containment, in an empty Hydra, even if I cannot move there and cannot feel the world around me.”

It was the biggest speech she’d ever made, and it took more effort than she expected. Dropping her head into her hands, she let the darkness flow up her hands to cover her face.

T’Challa regarded her thoughtfully, aware she was trying to hide. He looked around the lab. In deference to her light sensitivity the lights had been turned down but they were still bright enough to read by. Machinery was running and there were people in and out. For someone in isolation for so long - and apparently awake for much of it - the changes must have been no small shock.

“I will have an apartment prepared for you.” He spoke quietly. “Where you will have privacy and can turn the lights off, if you prefer. I will make sure there is someone who can teach you what our world is like, since you have been in isolation for so long.”

“I will be better when I have been in darkness.” She let her hands fall, the shadows sliding down her neck. “I am not ungrateful.”

“This is very new to you.” He inclined his head. “I understand.”

“I think,” She met his gaze and he held it without flinching, “It was not a mistake to follow you from that place.”

The apartment was in the same secure complex as Bucky's, but below ground. Layal was escorted there late in the evening by Fadyazi, the Dora Milaje who had been assigned to her. The guard stood silently as Layal cautiously explored the space - one bedroom, one bathroom and a comfortable living area - wide-eyed and silent.

“The lights can be dimmed manually and the heat is regulated. The king thought an underground facility would help ease your discomfort regarding sunlight.”

“This is a big space.”

“The king thought you would appreciate the privacy.”

“So big for one person.” Running a hand along the back of the sofa, she turned to face Fadyazi. “Please thank him for me.”

“Of course.” She inclined her head. “I will be in the apartment opposite. Use this screen if there is anything you require.” She showed Layal a blank screen and Layal’s head dropped. “Is there a problem?”

“I can’t see anything.” She’d suspected that things happened that she wasn’t aware of, judging by the behaviour of the handlers and even Shuri, who spent a lot of time looking at glowing screens that displayed nothing that Layal could detect.

“This is blank to you?”

“It glows but that is all. I’m sorry.”

“Do not be.” Fadyazi twitched a smile. “If you need anything, press here, like this.” She demonstrated where to press. “I will reset the screen for you.”

“Thank you.”

Alone, Layal turned in a slow circle, taking in just how much space was suddenly empty, how much had been set aside to keep her. Her shade crept out across the floor, sampling the smooth tiles and the rougher woven rugs. She closed her eyes, running her hand along the back of the sofa once more. She still couldn’t get over the novelty of sensation after so long in the numbing gel.

Carefully, she examined the light controls, dipping them down before turning them off completely. Pitch black. She made her way around the sofa, the darkness no barrier for her, and sat down in front of it. She sat cross-legged, hands resting on her feet, and let her shade go free.

It had been an effort keeping it so close for so long, but she hadn’t wanted to scare anyone. In the containment unit it had been the only thing she had any control over, the only thing that she could move, and she’d gotten used to letting it move as it pleased. Now, finally allowed to roam, it stretched out and grew, luxuriating in the soft wool throw draped over the chair opposite, exploring the taste of the mosaic set into the wall between two doors.

When it was satisfied with the textures around her, it lifted up off the floor and took the shape of Layal herself, sitting in the same position. Layal watched it for a while, considering.

She’d left the Hydra room. She’d seen outside. She’d been in the sun. She’d woken the Soldier.

Four things, all equally terrifying. She’d dreamed about outside, trapped in the tube, but nothing had prepared her for the expanse of the night sky when they stepped out into the open air. It had been staggering in its size and beauty and she’d almost fallen trying to take it all in, but she’d done it.

The sun hadn’t been as terrible as she’d expected. Unpleasant but much better than the spotlights, and it had been over quickly, the experience much more manageable with the sunglasses Shuri had given her.

The worst thing though, had been turning Bucky into the Soldier. He’d asked for it to be done so she’d done it but saying the words had been much harder than she’d expected. She knew that the handlers did it as a matter of course and some of them had relished the job but seeing Bucky disappear in front of her had been much more stressful than from a distance and from someone else’s commands.

She knew he had every reason to hate her for it.


	6. Chapter 6

Bucky knocked on the door, absently noting the sensors spaced along the hallway. He hadn’t been surprised that Layal had been moved from the lab; the light in there was diffuse and hard to pinpoint and she’d been unnerved by it. He didn’t think anyone else had noticed but her smile had been much more genuine when they weren’t there.

The door cracked open and he realised he didn’t know what to say.

“Hi.” He couldn’t see anything inside for a moment, then the lights came on. Layal opened the door and stood to one side and he stepped in, catching movement at the edge of his vision as he did so. The guard assigned to watch Layal nodded to him when he turned, before closing the door to her own apartment.

Curious but not unexpected. No one knew what she was or what she might be capable of. It made sense that a warrior would be posted nearby rather than a social worker.

“I wanted to see if you were okay, after the other day.” If he’d had a hat he would have been turning it in his hands. Instead, he jammed them in his pockets, not sure what he was doing there. From the look on her face, she was wondering the same thing.

“I was not in the chair.” She closed the door behind him and followed him to the living area. He glanced at her but she didn’t seem to mind when he sat down at the dining table. Sitting opposite, she watched him with those dark eyes.

“No, but you knew what would happen and you did it anyway.”

“You wanted it done.” She sounded slightly defensive but he thought he detected a question in her words.

“Thank you.”

“Shuri seemed pleased.”

“She’s been able to start picking the trigger words apart, now she’s seen what they do.”

“That is good.”

“It’s pretty clear what effect they have on me,” he grimaced, “But what about you?”

“Your words do not trigger me.”

“No, but saying them must have been hard.”

She didn’t reply, instead looking at her hands. She’d put them flat on the table and her shadows were moving under fingers, forming little spirals on the table top.

“Can you draw with those?” He asked, unable to contain his curiosity. She glanced up sharply, then followed his gaze to the table. The shadow stopped moving for a moment, then crept out onto the table. It darkened until he could barely see the wooden surface, then curled into a ball before spreading out.

She was drawing the outline of the jet that T’Challa had brought them to Wakanda on, the tail stretching back to her hands. Bucky grinned as the shape collapsed back into a circle, the edge rippling.

“Is it dangerous?” He asked, his own hands flat on the surface as he leaned forward.

“No.” She pushed it forward, lining it up across the centre and dividing the table into two halves, her side filling with darkness. Glancing up to ask silent permission, he reached forward with his own hand, wondering if he was making a colossal mistake.

The shadow waited at the halfway point. He couldn’t feel anything, exactly, but had the sensation of dipping his hand into a cold draft.

“Okay?” She asked quietly. He splayed his fingers in assent and she exhaled, releasing a breath he hadn’t realised she’d been holding. The shadow moved, lifting up from the table and wrapping around his wrist.

It was a gentle feeling and he couldn’t help but shudder. He’d never been ticklish but the cool sensation coupled with seeing something black weave between his fingers without properly feeling it was definitely something new. Turning his hand over, he watched as the shade pooled in his hand. It was strange and somehow intimate and he looked up, suddenly shy.

Layal was watching his hand, her usually guarded expression open in wonder.

“No one would touch me, in the room.” She looked up, her eyes shining. They weren’t black, Bucky realised, but blue. Deepest, darkest blue, they reminded him of the night sky. “You are not afraid.”

“No.”

“Thank you.” She smiled then, her whole face lighting up, and Bucky found himself smiling in response. The shadow drained out of his hand and returned to spinning in circles, before disappearing into her sleeves.

“Saying your words was hard.” She sat back in her chair. “But you said you wanted it done. I would not have, otherwise.”

“I know.”

“I saw. I knew what to expect.”

“At least you can remember.” Bucky muttered. She tilted her head.

“Can you remember what happened after you went empty?”

“No. Not always, not at first.”

“But when you are the Soldier, you can remember.”

“I guess so.” He must be able to, or Zemo wouldn’t have been so hell-bent on getting a mission report when there should have been a paper trail somewhere. He couldn’t see how chasing him down and triggering the Soldier would be easier than tracking down a particular filing cabinet but then, some people liked to make life difficult for themselves. He thought for a moment. “If we try again, to see if Shuri has cracked it, ask for a report on you.”

“Cracked... it?”

“If she thinks she can succeed, we’ll have to try. If it doesn’t work... if the Soldier appears, ask him what he knows about you.” It seemed weird to talk out loud about the Soldier in the third person but it was how Bucky thought to himself. Of everyone who knew his real name, Layal would be the one who probably understood. She’d seen more of the Soldier than anyone else and knew what he’d been through better than he did.

Remembering her shadow whip itself against the side of her tank, he hoped he’d interpreted it correctly.

“You used to watch them bring me out.” He said slowly, watching his hands make circles of their own on the table top.

“I couldn’t not.” She matched his tone cautiously.

“Your shadow didn’t like it.”

“My shadow couldn’t help you.”

“How would you have helped me, if you could?” That was something that had puzzled him. She’d mentioned protection more than once but he failed to see how, unless she could vanish other people the same way she’d climbed the stairs at the base. The thought made him queasy. Having lost his mind for so long, what would losing his physical body be like?

“It takes...” She frowned, unable to think of the right words.

“It takes?” He prompted in Russian and she flinched, leaping to her feet. He stayed still, watching as she paced the length of the room, reassuring herself that she could still move on her own, still move away as far as she needed to. “Sorry, I thought that might be easier.”

“I think,” She leaned against the far wall. “I need to find the right words.”

“I should go.” He stood up. She nodded, watching as he pushed his chair in and moved towards the door. He paused before opening it, turning towards her. “Thank you.” He glanced at his palm and she flashed a quick smile, watching as he carefully closed the door behind him.

“Ask him what he knows about you.” The words in the air after Bucky left. Layal, leaning against the wall, slid down until she was sitting on the floor, her shadow meandering across the surface behind her. The Soldier knew things, briefed on missions and targets. She’d been a target of his on more than occasion so he would know something but asking meant engaging him and she wasn’t sure she could do it. As nice as Bucky had been - and as surprising as she found it that he came to see her - the thought of giving the Soldier a direct order made her shiver.

Setting that thought aside, she thought instead of the smile he’d given her, watching her shadow weave around his fingers. She’d never reached for a person with it before and the warmth of his hand had been a shock. He hadn’t seemed to notice though, absorbed with watching the tendrils move. He hadn’t been afraid and he hadn’t flinched. For the first time, she wondered if that meant she wasn’t something to be feared after all. Or maybe it was just that Bucky, as nice as he was, was just as dangerous with the right words.


	7. Chapter 7

_The Soldier stood several feet from the platform where his chair was usually secured. He had been called upon to maintain the perimeter and was watching as the tank was drained and the contents instructed to stand at the centre of the marks painted on the concrete._

_She did so, wringing gel from her hair and standing silently, her shade spreading out in a circle around her bare feet._

_One spotlight came on first and the shade wavered before shrinking, running for cover under her feet. She hunched over slightly but made no sound. The Soldier waited, eyes hidden behind his mask. If the lights went out, he would be prepared._

_It took four spotlights before she made a sound. The Soldier tensed, ready to move. He had not been told what would happen, only that the perimeter was not to be breached. If anything happened, he was to protect the handlers and subdue the subject but not kill her._

_The lights had been added at regular intervals; by the time the fourth came on she was on her knees and covering her eyes. The Soldier could hear a low keening sound; it grated on his nerves and he gritted his teeth behind the mask._

_The fifth spotlight was higher than the others and vanquished the last scrap of darkness. The low moan stopped and her hands dropped from her face. Her expression contorted as there was nowhere else to hide, then her head rolled back and the world went black._

Bucky jerked awake just as he went over the edge of the bed, landing on the floor heavily. He froze, half-kneeling on the floor, then bolted for the bathroom. The dispassionate feeling that came with the memory made his stomach turn, and he retched over the toilet, fighting the panic that came with each of the Soldier’s memories.

“Not me.” He slumped back against the wall, staring at the overhead light as he waited for his pulse to slow. “It’s not me.”

That feeling though, the dismissal that came with such a cold assessment of the situation, filled him with dread. How could anyone possibly consider themselves human, with so much emptiness and so little empathy? Hydra might have taken his mind and his memories but surely that level of _otherness_ had to be built from something. There must be something in him, something twisted, for the Soldier to have been so good at what he was.

He shuddered, letting the cold of the tiled wall soak into his back. Self-hatred wasn’t quite right; it was utter abhorrence that rolled through him. Closing his eyes, he exhaled loudly, praying Shuri would be able to help quell the fear that he’d look at the world through the Soldier’s eyes again.

Layal. It had been Layal on the platform. It had been Layal who had disgusted the Soldier with her weakness and her inability to control her shadow. Bucky felt a flush creep up his neck, shame marking his skin. She wasn’t quite a friend but she was much a victim of Hydra as he was and she’d been nothing but brave since they’d met. She been willing to trust them to take her to safety when she’d known - she’d remembered when he hadn’t - what he’d helped do to her, and now she found herself in another facility where she was going to be studied.

The cold seeping into his skin was helping him calm down and he opened his eyes. He knew why Zemo was so nervous of her.

“Sergeant Barnes.” T’Challa nodded a greeting when Bucky arrived at the construction site the next day, escorted by three Dora Milaje. The king was viewing the new wing at the university that would be dedicated to T’Chaka, the space already cleared and footings in place.

“Thank you for seeing me.” Again, he found himself at a loss with his hands but putting them in his pockets would make the guards nervous. Instead, he found himself standing at ease, his hands clasped behind his back.

“Your message sounded important.” T’Challa gestured for him to fall in next to him and the two men started to walk the length of the new building, the guards following at a discreet distance.

“I remembered something.” It sounded more than a bit daft in the bright sunshine but he knew he couldn’t keep it to himself.

“To do with our other guest?” T’Challa paused beneath a large shady tree.

“She mentioned the lights.” Bucky fell into position automatically.

“You recall what happens when she’s exposed?”

“She’s tortured.” He kept his expression carefully blank, squashing the revulsion at the memory of how little it mattered to his alter-ego. “They pushed her until she broke.”

“And then?”

“She...” He hesitated, not entirely sure how to explain it. “It’s like, the light is too much pressure. When it gets too much, her shadow...”

“Are my people safe?” T’Challa asked softly.

“To a point. It took a lot of light to build enough pressure, but when it did, she explodes.” He shrugged awkwardly. “Sort of.”

“Sort of?”

“Her shadow expands. It smashed the lights and enveloped the room. The handlers were killed.”

“Enveloped the room? The whole room?”

“Yes sir.” Bucky sighed inwardly. He felt like a snitch but keeping the truth from T’Challa would be a much more serious betrayal.

“How did the handlers die?”

“They suffocated.”

“Yet you survived?” T’Challa looked surprised. “Because of the serum?”

“I was masked.” The mask they muzzled him with had a small rebreather to combat gas attacks; it had given him enough air to escape into the relative safety of the stairwell, dragging the nearest handler along behind him.

“What happened after that?”

“I don’t know. The next I remember, she was back in the tank and it was fully black.”

“Like it was when you arrived last week?”

“Yes sir.”

“Do you trust her?”

“I do.” It wasn’t much of an admission but it rang true. Bucky had seen how uncomfortable she’d been before triggering the Soldier. No matter what Zemo said - or didn’t say - about her, he couldn’t quite see her as a threat.

“Thank you for bringing this to me.” T’Challa looked thoughtful. “Zemo has refused to tell us why he reacted to her in such a way.”

“But he went into a secure facility to trigger the Soldier.” Bucky muttered to himself, thinking there was a serious imbalance there somewhere. T’Challa nodded, apparently agreeing.

“We have found some documentation regarding your friend but it seems there is more to be found. Do you have any knowledge of anywhere we could look for information?”

“Possibly. I’ll think about it.”

“That would be useful. If bright lights are the only trigger we can accommodate that easily.”

“The only one I can recall right now.” They both knew that Bucky’s memory was an evolving creature.

“Please let me know if there’s anything else. And let me know if I need to move her to somewhere more secure.” If she was a threat to his people. Bucky nodded. It had been a generous offer that had brought them here and T’Challa had to put his own people first.

“Don’t worry, it’s not invasive at all.” Shuri smiled reassuringly. Layal turned dark eyes towards her, her expression inscrutable.

“Is there light?”

“Yes but it’s not strong.”

“You will need the Soldier.” Layal said flatly.

“Why?” Shuri stopped her preparations. Layal stared at her hands, where shadows seemed to fidget across her skin.

“If there’s too much light, he will be needed.”

“We will monitor you. If you show any signs of stress, we will stop the scan and drop the lights, I promise.” Shuri tried to sound reassuring. Layal nodded slowly, not raising her eyes, and Shuri gave in. “All right, I’ll see if he would mind watching.”

Bucky arrived some ten minutes later; he’d been in the middle of a session with a psychiatrist who was trying in vain to prepare him for life in the 21st century. Bucky knew the man was trying to help him but hadn’t been inclined to share much while his memories were still so much of a mystery to himself, and he’d jumped at the chance to escape to the lab.

When he arrived, it was to find Layal sitting on one of the examination tables while Shuri was playing on her phone.

“She wanted you here, although I can’t see why.” Shuri shrugged at his arrival.

“If the lights are too bright.” Bucky thought he detected a defensive note in Layal’s voice although she seemed perfectly calm. She looked up at him, her eyes as much a shock as ever. “If the lights are too bright, you’ll need to step in.”

“What do you need me to do?” He asked, feeling hollow. He knew he couldn’t refuse, after she’d called the Soldier at his request, but he wasn’t sure what he could do to prevent what he could only think of as a blackout.

“It’s me.” She gestured at the shadow, which was wrapped around one ankle and dropped to the floor, a black ribbon weaving a slow pattern “If I’m put down, it goes down.”

“You want me to knock you out?” He glanced at Shuri who offered no help at all.

“You weren’t afraid to touch me before.”

“Well, no, but... punching you in the face is a bit different.”

“If I ask nicely?”

Shuri smothered a laugh and turned to watch Bucky, who squirmed under her gaze. It wasn’t right, what she was asking, but there was a tiny part of him that rejoiced in his own discomfort: this was the sort of thing the Soldier wouldn’t hesitate over. His reluctance was something he was happy to mull over, a clear line he wasn’t keen to cross - but he would, because she was asking.

“My brother says it takes much more light than we’re using.” Shuri reassured him. “According to your intel. So if you have to step in, it’s because you offered the wrong information.”

“Thanks, that makes it much less terrible.” He retorted. She laughed at him, delighted that he was capitulating, and turned to Layal.

“Lie down and pretend you’re asleep.” She ordered. Layal let the shade spool back up off the floor and pulled her feet up, lying down as the teenager ordered. Bucky, suddenly finding himself in the way as Shuri began to bustle around, moved to the other side of the table. He dropped into position, uncomfortably aware that he was now imitating the Soldier, in both stance and apparent mission. He held onto his unease, the proof that he was still himself, and clenched his hands.

Layal closed her eyes, seemingly relaxed, but her shadow was restless, moving around the table beneath her. The lights in the lab dimmed slightly but the table remained lit. The shadow seemed to shudder slightly and Bucky stepped closer. She was definitely shaking.

“Layal.” He spoke softly, “Give me your hand.”

She opened her eyes, wincing against the light, and he nodded encouragingly. She reached for him and he took her fingers, feeling a cool flicker against his wrist. She closed her eyes, her grip tightening slightly and he looked up to see Shuri staring at him, one eyebrow raised.

Without a word, she brightened the lights and a scanning unit dropped down, moving across Layal, who seemed to stop breathing. Bucky squeezed her hand gently, remembering how her shadow had spun wildly in her tank during one of his lucid moments in the chair. Now, it tickled his wrist with icy fingers.

“We’re done.” Shuri said several minutes later, turning the brighter lights off. As soon as the room dimmed, Layal exhaled and let go his hand. He stepped back, aware of the heat suffusing his wrist without her touch.

Sitting up, she swung her legs down and looked at him shyly.

“Thank you.” It was almost a whisper.

“Us lab rats have to stick together.” He winked at her and she blinked in surprise, a smile creeping onto her face.


	8. Chapter 8

Zemo’s cell was spartan but the man himself seemed not to notice, watching T’Challa arrive with only mild curiosity.

“Is the world still turning? Have they forgotten me yet?” He asked, not bothering to stand. T’Challa glanced at him before nodding for a seat. It was brought to him and the guards withdrew. The two men regarded each other for a long moment.

“Have you reconsidered your decision?” T’Challa asked.

“After going to so much trouble to free the Shadow from her tank, do you think I would spill her secrets so easily?” Zemo smiled. “It took much planning to get her out into the world and you keeping her hidden was not my intention.”

“What was your intention?”

“Do you know much of European myths and legends? All of the stories, from every culture, teach that the dark is to be feared, the dark is where evil lives. Is it not true that myths have some truth in them, some kernel from which stories take root?”

“You think it’s evil you’ve freed into the world?”

“I think your ancestors were right to keep your people isolated from the rest of the world. Deciding to join it in its downward spiral will bring disaster to your door.”

“You may be right. It brought you.” T’Challa’s voice was measured, almost bored, but he was thinking of his father.

“I am but a product of the so-called heroes, the ones who claim to protect but wreak more destruction than they care to admit.” Zemo leaned forward. “But I’m speaking to a hero now, am I not?”

“You are speaking to a king, crowned before his time. Do not forget that.”

“The heroes create ripples, ripples spread out. Your father’s death is such a result.”

T’Challa got to his feet, unable to sit calmly while Zemo dismissed his crime so lightly. Pacing the room, he paused.

“Where did you learn about Layal?” He asked bluntly.

“The Black Widow.” That was more of a reply than he’d gotten last time and he kept his expression neutral.

“Where did she come from?”

“Ask her.”

“How long did they keep her at that base?”

“Ask her.” Zemo sat back further. “You went to the trouble of bringing her here, ask her what you wish to know. Why should I be the one to tell you her secrets?”

“Why was she so important to you, that you killed innocent people to bring her to our attention?”

At this, Zemo laughed.

“She is important as much as a rifle is important, or a suit of iron bristling with weapons.” He folded his hands neatly in his lap. “Such devices are useless without their trigger. Have you found hers yet?”

* * * 

Shuri was frowning at her screens when T’Challa arrived in the lab. It wasn’t often she looked so doubtful and her brother was suddenly reminded of how young she was.

“This is amazing.” She announced, turning her wrist to show him.

“It is... something.” He glanced at her, not surprised to see she was laughing at him.

“You can ask, brother.”

“What is it?” He conceded, grudgingly smiling at her amusement.

“Layal’s eyes.” She zoomed in to show him something. “Human eyes see colours via rods and cones.”

“That sounds familiar.”

“They give us the ability to see all the colours of the rainbow.”

“But not every colour.”

“No. Some animals can see things we can’t, like infra-red.”

“And Layal?”

“Her eyes can see much further along the spectrum than we can.” Shuri grinned. “That’s how she can move in pitch darkness. She can see ultraviolet, and some infra-red.”

“So she has an advantage over regular people.” It wasn’t ground-breaking and it didn’t seem like enough to fear her but their tests hadn’t yet revealed anything else of note.

“Not entirely. She can see ultraviolet and infra-red but she can’t see colours. The temperatures she can see from the infra-red part of the spectrum appear to be shades of grey, from what I can tell. She can’t see what we see, like a TV screen or words typed on a sheet of paper. A TV will just glow and won’t resolve itself into images, and a page from a book will be a flat grey.”

“She can’t see written words?”

“No, I do not think so, unless they are written with specific inks.” She glanced up.

“Not exactly the stuff of nightmares.” T’Challa didn’t look impressed. Although Shuri seemed pleased with her progress regarding the Winter Soldier, it was Layal who was worrying the king. Not knowing exactly what the threat was or how it would manifest made him doubt that keeping her so close to the populace was a good idea, in spite of the security measures built into her apartment.

“It explains her sensitivity to sunlight.” Shuri added. “The ultraviolet is too strong and causes physical discomfort.”

“That still doesn’t help solve our mystery.”

“That murdering terrorist is not co-operating, then?” Shuri bent her head over the control unit on her head, her tone dropping several degrees.

“He seems confident that we have overlooked something.” T’Challa replied, frowning.

“Maybe you should take Layal to see him.” Shuri suggested. “If he’s so scared of her, maybe he’ll feel more co-operative when he’s face to face with her.”

* * * 

_The pain increased, his jaw aching as he clamped down on the biteguard. In front of him, two handlers watched dispassionately, waiting for the right moment to throw the switch. Each second seems like an eternity as he strained against the restraints holding him in place, each breath torn out of him as he heard his own screams._

_Eventually they relented and he slumped, drawing ragged breaths and wondering how his lungs were still working. His head rolling as his muscles refused to co-operate, he caught sight of the sixth tank. The girl in it was in the same position as ever, suspended in mid-air, but the black shape beneath her was throwing itself against the side of the tank, the movement frenzied and utterly ineffectual._

_Trying to flex his fingers, he looked up higher as his head rocked forward._

_Black eyes met his, grey tears filling the mask._

* * * 

Bucky opened his eyes, his breathing loud in the quiet darkness and his face slick with sweat. He was cold and he wasn’t in his own bed. Sitting up, he reached out, feeling the edge of the sofa. His was leather; this was suede.

Taking a deeper breath, he held it a long moment before exhaling. Something cold brushed his hand tentatively and he turned it palm up, knowing she could see. Slumping back, he let his head fall back and opened his eyes wide, listening to his own breathing as a hand slid into his.

She must have been sitting at his feet, he realised, then remembered that she’d been across the room, listening as he rambled. And then he’d fallen asleep, fallen into a nightmare, and she was there, offering the comfort she couldn’t have offered from inside the tank.

He squeezed her hand, smiling in the darkness as she squeezed back, the cold feeling moving up his forearm. Her shadow was investigating him, he realised. He held out his metal hand, not feeling even a little ridiculous in the dark, and felt his smile grow warmer when she took it. He pulled her up from the floor, settling her next to him. Cold enveloped him, a calming sensation that did more than any of the breathing exercises he’d tried.

“Thank you.” He whispered.

The next time he opened his eyes he was still on the sofa, but he felt more rested than he had in months. Layal was curled up at the other end, her shadow draped over them both. The feeling wasn’t unpleasant and it took him a moment to realise that he could feel it at all. Touching a finger to the darkness, he felt it move beneath his hand. He glanced over to find her watching him, her eyes holding an apprehension he hadn’t seen before.

“You’ve been holding back?” He asked.

“I don’t want anyone to be scared of me.” She replied. He almost laughed; she’d given him hours of restful sleep, somehow keeping the dreams at bay with nothing but darkness. He wasn’t sure he could make her understand how big of a thing that was so he didn’t try. Instead he nodded, wondering what other secrets she was keeping.


	9. Chapter 9

“This is for you.” Fadyazi strode into Layal’s apartment, her arms full of books.

“I have seen books before.” Layal watched doubtfully. “They are a mystery.”

“These ones are not.” The warrior put them down on the dining table and gestured for Layal to sit down. Waiting until she was comfortable, Fadyazi slid the first one across.

“But I can see this!” Layal touched a finger to the picture on the cover, her jaw dropping. It was a picture of an animal wearing some kind of armour. “It’s not blank!”

“These have been printed with a special ink, just for you.” Fadyazi sat down.

“Just for me?” Layal looked up at the woman, her eyes shining. Fadyazi smiled, amused at how impressed she seemed to be.

“Just for you.” She confirmed. “They have been printed in English, and you are going to read them to me.”

“Oh.” Layal’s smile slipped.

“I know you have never been taught how to read. These are children’s books. I will teach you, and you will practise on your own.”

“Thank you.” She looked up to Fadyazi, her smile growing. “Can we start now?”

“What is that?” Layal tilted her head at Shuri, who looked surprised at the question.

“It’s music.” She grinned. “It’s American, true, but it’s not entirely terrible.” She caught Bucky’s expression and levelled a pout at him. “You disagree?”

“There’s no soul to this.” He waved at the room behind them; Shuri was testing Layal’s shadow. Bucky suspected it had been his accidental sleepover that had prompted the new investigation; Layal’s shy revelation that her shadow had substance was too timely. He couldn’t bring himself to feel guilty though, as it meant that Shuri was turning her attention to Layal and leaving him alone for a bit. It didn’t stop him from spending time in the lab though. The teenager’s enthusiasm was infectious and he was curious about what she’d discover.

“Soul?” Layal was watching the table, where she was weaving dark shapes around a number of small objects. So far she’d managed to lower the temperature of a cup of water and moved a digital scale a few grams but nothing else. She seemed to treat the exercise as a game and was more interested in the teasing between Shuri and Bucky.

“Feeling.” He glanced at the princess, who took pity on him.

“Good music should speak to your soul.” Shuri fiddled with her bracelet. “What music were you listening to in the old days, tin man?”

Bucky thought back. His mother had been partial to Billie Holliday but it had been mostly Glenn Miller filling the airwaves. Before he could say anything, a soft jazz filled the room and Shuri tilted her head, judging the sound. The sound brought back a flood of memories and Bucky felt his breath catch. Sometimes, in the murky waking period between being frozen and being reset, he thought he could hear the music from the dance halls but since Washington he’d stayed away from music, not sure he could trust his reaction to such a sharp reminder that the world he knew was gone.

Shuri was watching him intently and he hastily smoothed his expression, looking to Layal instead. She was listening, frowning slightly. Realising he was watching her, she smiled the same open smile she’d shared in her apartment. Feeling strangely vindicated, he grinned back.

“What do you think?” Shuri was leaning against the wall behind Fadyazi, who was reviewing security footage from around the apartment complex.

“I think he is good for her stress levels.” The Dora replied. “It was the king’s opinion that stress could trigger something unknown. Letting them spend time together may help prevent an incident.”

“It hasn’t occurred to my brother that there might be other side effects.” Shuri watched the footage. On one screen, Layal was sleeping face down on the floor, viewable only by infra-red in the pitch black room. She seemed to like the rug in front of the sofa and had stretched out, her fingers splayed over the braided texture. “Does she even know there’s a bed in the other room?”

“She knows.”

“What do you think?” Shuri asked. “Is it a bad idea?”

“It is not the kind of situation where match-making would be advised.” Fadyazi glanced up at the princess. “If it goes wrong it has the potential to go catastrophically wrong.”

“And if it goes right?” Shuri grinned. “I haven’t been wrong yet.” She caught the doubtful look flashed in her direction. “What?”

“I don’t think you’ll be able to influence it either way.” Fadyazi said, sounding resigned. “It’s too late. He has her loyalty but she doesn’t have experience with social interaction.”

“Good thing she’s getting used to people then.” Shuri replied.

Bucky leaned against the boxing bag, listening to his own ragged breathing. The psychiatrist might be trying to break down his mental walls but it took a good session of thumping things to really wear him out. It had been generous of the king to have one of the sub-basement levels converted into a place where he could really push himself and he relished the chance to work up a sweat. It gave him a chance to ache, something he needed. If his brain wouldn’t co-operate, his body would.

He heard a noise behind him and glanced around, one arm wrapped around the bag. Fadyazi was standing in the doorway, watching him with a carefully neutral expression.

“Come to spar?” He straightened.

“I heard you training.”

“Are you off-duty?” He knew she was never far away from Layal; whatever her thoughts were on T’Challa’s mysterious guest, she was very good at her job.

“No.” She stood as though relaxed but Bucky had seen the way the Dora Milaje fought. Taking in the way she positioned herself, ready to move quickly if she had to, he wiped a hand across his brow. “But she is safe.”

Safe from harm, or safe from inflicting harm on someone else? Bucky picked up the drink bottle sitting next to his towel. He knew what it was like to be mistrusted but he wasn’t sure if Layal realised the careful balancing act that surrounded her.

“Can you fight without that?” Fadyazi gestured to his arm.

“I don’t know.” He looked at it as he drank. “One thing about Hydra, they tended to keep their toys in good condition.” He’d damaged it more than once, and paid for his carelessness, but he’d never lost it entirely. The weight had become second nature, the added strength as natural to him as his own arm.

“That’s not true.” She came to stand a few feet away. “You were not treated well. She was not treated well.”

“Has she said much about it?”

“She says nothing but replies.” The warrior tilted her head, studying him. “But you knew that.”

He nodded slowly. He’d fallen into the habit of calling by her apartment each afternoon, finding her quiet presence calming. She tried to answer his questions but she seemed to have fewer memories than he did and they hadn’t learned much so he’d started telling her about New York and what it had been like before the war. She listened, her shadow weaving patterns across the floor and her eyes shining in the dim light. And when he wasn’t in the mood to talk, he listened while she read her books, both of them learning the stories told to Wakandan children.

Fadyazi was never there and Bucky assumed that they were being monitored by cameras. He found it hard to care though, talking about how his mother held him personally responsible whenever Steve got himself into a scrape. Talking to a psychiatrist didn’t seem to be helping much but talking to a silent Layal and any number of listening devices, he realised that the memories didn’t torture him the way they had.

He wondered what the shrink would make of that.

“Does she make you nervous?” Bucky asked. The guard snorted.

“No.” She looked as if she’d been insulted.

“Even with her shadow?”

“Some people believe the spirit of a person weaves around them, keeping them safe. Maybe the only difference between hers and yours is that you can’t see yours.”

“Maybe.” He didn’t think his soul would be much to look at. It certainly wouldn’t be capable of drawing patterns on the wall.

“Have you tried hot chocolate?”

“For what?” He wasn’t sure he heard her correctly but the eye roll was unmistakable. Apparently giving up, the warrior shook her head and turned away, but not before Bucky caught the beginning of a smile on her face. Confused and wondering if he’d overdone his workout, he was silent as she left, the door banging loudly in the quiet room. If he didn’t know better, he’d suspect he was being given some advice.

For what? For himself? For Layal? He sat down, picking up the towel and running it across the back of his neck. Fadyazi hadn’t spoken much to him but he had no doubt she was aware of what he’d talked to Layal about. There was nothing in their conversations that should make her think he needed advice though, surely? He started playing the most recent one through his mind, searching for any subtext that he’d missed.

He’d told her about the Christmas tree they went to see at Rockefeller Centre the year they’d installed a skating rink. Steve had promised Bucky’s Ma that he wouldn’t skate but of course he was out on the ice before Bucky could stop him, and then he’d had to half-carry the idiot home with a fractured arm. Bucky had been 19 and had still wilted in the face of his mother’s fury.

Layal had listened intently, asking him to elaborate and he’d answered every question without minding, grinning when she laughed at the right parts of the story.

He’d dreamed of his mother that night, and the way she’d danced with him after he gave her a delicate snow globe from the Rockefeller Centre. She’d flushed with pleasure and told him to mind himself, then chased him out into the street with tears in her eyes, telling him he’d be late for work.

Sitting back, he knew that he’d never talk about his mother with the doctor assigned to him. The man seemed more interested in asking about how the triggers worked and how they made him feel; it was good that they were trying to gather information to help Shuri solve him, but his sessions were chores, a means to an end. Reliving the precious memories he knew were his own was something he needed to do on his own time.

Standing up, he shook his head. Hot chocolate? Was the Dora messing with him?

He stared at the coffee machine in consternation. He had been using it for weeks and had only just discovered there was a setting for hot chocolate. He wasn’t sure if he should go and thank Fadyazi or spend the rest of his life avoiding her knowing gaze.

Setting it going, he leaned back against the counter. The warrior had set him thinking about things he had no business thinking and he’d been trying to interpret her meaning for two hours, eventually deciding to try the drink himself before taking some to Layal. He was already looking forward to seeing what she thought of it.

“Stupid.” He muttered, knowing the guard was probably watching him on a live feed and laughing herself silly over the idiot and how dense he seemed to be.

As if confirming his suspicion, there was a heavy knock at the door and he jerked his head up. If it was her, he was tempted to shake her until she explained what she’d meant-

Throwing the door open he was stunned to see Steve. His thoughts had been circling so tightly that he just stared for a minute, until Steve waved a hand in front of his face.

“What, no hello?” He laughed. Bucky shook himself and grinned, throwing the door open wider.

“Sorry, I was having a moment.”

“No kidding.” Steve stepped inside, clapping Bucky on the shoulder.

“It’s good to see you.” Bucky meant it. He’d been worried about how Steve had been faring, being both a wanted man and a stubborn idiot with a talent for getting himself into trouble. Bucky knew his access to world events was being monitored and beyond asking T’Challa whenever they met, he had stayed away from media reports, having learned first-hand how badly they could skew the facts.

“It’s good to be back.” Steve stopped at the counter. Bucky followed him in and released the catch on the coffee machine. Sniffing the hot drink cautiously, he tried it.

“Oh my god.” He handed it to Steve. “Try this.”

He watched as Steve drank, the surprise in his friend’s expression mirroring his own.

“This tastes like Aunt Cath’s.” Steve looked at the cup, then the machine. “Where did this come from?”

“I don’t know; I was just told to try it.” He shook his head when Steve offered it back to him, then got a second mug from the cupboard. By the time it was ready Steve had made himself at home on the sofa and Bucky dropped into an armchair opposite.

“Aunt Cath.” Steve relaxed back into the settee, his cup cradled carefully against his chest. “She was one scary woman.”

“Whose aunt was she, anyway?” Bucky asked. Steve shrugged, grinning. Cath Hooper had lived on the ground floor of Steve’s building and had never been seen without her apron. She used to cook for Steve and his mother and when she was taking particular pity on them (usually when they were hiding some mischief or another) she’d make the boys hot chocolate. She had been an amazing cook and her hot drinks were sought after by all the neighbourhood kids. No one knew what the secret ingredient was and she was inclined to swat those brave enough to ask.

“Everyone’s, I guess.” Steve replied. “Remember that time you unbolted the window cage for one of her cherry pies?”

“I couldn’t look at a rolling pin the same way, after that. You never got in trouble for it though and you ate most of it.”

“I paid for it.” Steve winced at the memory. “I ate too much and was sick for two days.”

“You told your ma you’d had a bad fish pie.” Bucky remembered. “Because you were scared Aunt Cath would find out.”

“That woman could put two and two together faster than either of us.” Steve laughed. “I think she just felt sorry for me.”

“Yeah, everyone did.” Bucky shrugged. “You could pull off pathetic like no one else.”

“My original superpower.” Steve said, losing some of his humour. Bucky smiled sadly. Steve had come so close to dying several times when they’d been growing up that Bucky used to dream about his funeral, waking in cold sweats. Now, more than seventy years later, they finally had the chance to sit down and reminisce about the little things that no one else knew. He’d really missed that. Out of everything that had happened, the chance to sit and talk rubbish with his best friend was the loss he’d regretted the most.

“So.” He pushed those thoughts to the side. “Tell me what happened when you staged your great prison break.”


	10. Chapter 10

“Hi.” Steve paused, letting the boxing bag come to a halt. Bucky, stripped to the waist, turned to see Layal and Fadyazi standing just inside the door. Layal blinked in the strong light and hovered behind the warrior’s shoulder, away from the circles cast by the downlights. Fadyazi glanced at her and moved to the door, turning the first set of lights off and leaving the corner where Bucky and Steve the only lit part of the room.

Layal glanced up, thanking the guard, and approached them, her shadow gliding along the floor and getting distracted by a kettlebell. Bucky wondered if she realised it was starting to act more like a separate entity, or if she was just getting more comfortable with her surroundings.

“Shuri wanted to know.” She knotted her fingers nervously, staring at the floor. Her shadow let go of the kettlebell and rushed back to her, pooling around her feet. “If you were ready for a trial.” She looked up cautiously. Bucky met her gaze evenly, suddenly chilled. They wanted to try and call the Soldier. He glanced at Steve, grateful his friend had arrived back in time. Somehow, he felt safer knowing that Steve could put him down if he needed to. He didn’t doubt T’Challa’s abilities - certainly not after what had happened in Romania - but he dreaded the thought that the Soldier could inflict some damage. At least Steve had a reasonably good chance of evening the score and was less inclined to hold a grudge.

“All right.”

“Not tonight.” Fadyazi said. “The princess needs to run some checks on you tomorrow.”

“Will it be you?” Bucky asked, looking to Layal.

“If you need it to be.” She nodded, her expression serious. He knew she was reluctant and he thought he knew why but somehow, it seemed less of an ordeal with someone familiar behind the words.

“Please.”

Bucky’s morning was spent staring into a machine while Shuri flicked lights into his eyes. It was a subliminal reinforcement programme that she’d designed that would hopefully loosen the triggers enough that Bucky could fight them himself. He’d asked for odds on it working the first time and she’d pretended to be offended, then confessed that it was the first of several theories and he shouldn’t worry if it didn’t work.

In spite of her nonchalance Bucky was nervous. Steve had offered to stay with him and he’d readily agreed, preferring it be his old friend who knocked him out over T’Challa, whose safety was guaranteed by the Dora Milaje. He’d much prefer to take his chances with Captain America over a squad of highly trained warriors with no interest in his personal safety. 

Of Layal there had been no sign. He hoped he wasn’t asking too much of her. He was about to ask Shuri when Fadyazi threw the door open and stroke in, Layal trailing behind.

“You’re late.” Shuri muttered.

“We were delayed.” Fadyazi shot Layal a look that was completely ignored. Turning to Shuri, the warrior spoke quickly, her words a blur to Bucky, who was watching Layal.

Her shadow was up, not touching the floor. Instead, it was tucked close around her neck, not moving much. She was watching Shuri and Fadyazi, her expression apprehensive.

“Okay?” He asked quietly. She started, looking at him nervously.

“Fadyazi is not pleased.”

“What happened?”

She didn’t reply, watching as Shuri pulled up a string of numbers from her wrist. Bucky, standing next to Layal, touched her arm in silent reassurance. Without her shadow, her skin was cool rather than cold.

“You were sick?” Shuri asked sharply.

“You’re not well?” Steve asked.

“I’m not unwell.” She stared at the floor, uncomfortable with the attention. “I didn’t mean to make you late.”

“We can do this another time.” Bucky suggested, trying to keep the hope out of his voice. Layal shook her head, the movement jerky.

“No.” She looked up at him. “Not because of me.” Her shadow moved then, flicking down inside her clothing and appearing at her wrists. Cold licked at Bucky’s hand and he glanced at Shuri.

“Can we have a minute please?” He asked, knowing anything he said would be played back later anyway. Shuri looked from one to the other, listening as Fadyazi said something else, then she sighed dramatically and hooked an arm around Steve.

“Come, Captain Superhero.” She tugged him across the room. “We need to let the lab rats plan their mutiny.”

Bucky waited until they were across the room. He knew Steve would be listening but at least it would give Layal a chance to settle.

“You were sick?” He asked softly.

“Yes.” She was staring at her hands, frowning.

“Because you’re worried about this?”

“Yes.”

“If this is too hard for you, someone else can do it.” He kept his voice low, trying to catch her eye and wishing he’d never asked her.

“It’s not too hard.” She looked up then, looking at the others rather than him. “Why did you ask me?”

“Because you know how hard it is, and why.” He tried to smile as she finally turned her gaze toward him. “It’s safer with you because you know.” He couldn’t really explain it better than that but he was relieved when her shadow uncoiled, stretching down both arms. She touched his hand, wrapping darkness around his fingers, and he squeezed back with a reassurance he wasn’t feeling.

“Besides which,” He added softly, tasting bitterness in his words, “It might give you a chance to find out more.”

Before she could reply he turned away, letting go of her hand. Again, it seemed like he wouldn’t be able to breathe until after it was done, and he was suddenly impatient to get on with things.

Ignoring the curious looks from the other side of the room he threw himself into the chair, biting his tongue to keep his expression blank.

Steve tightened the wrist restraints, avoiding Bucky’s eye. His friend was trying to be resolute but Steve caught the faint tremor in his hands and could see the pulse hammering at his neck.

“Good to go.” Stepping away from the chair, he forced himself to drop into one of the chairs lining the wall, determined to look casual. He knew the last trial had been done without any manipulation from Shuri and that it had been more or less a straightforward process. He’d never expected to witness it up close though and he could feel the tension in his shoulders already.

Layal stepped forward, her shadow dark on her arms. Steve watched her dubiously. Bucky hadn’t said much about her in the few days since Steve had returned but he knew from T’Challa that inquiries were still being made as to her origins and her potential as a weapon. Bucky didn’t seem to have so many reservations, seemingly more concerned about her wellbeing than his own. Steve supposed it gave his friend something else to focus on while they waited for a cure.

“ _Zhelaniye_.”

Bucky closed his eyes, gripping the arms of the chair as she began. Steve stood up, unable to just sit back and watch, and started to pace silently behind Layal as she went through the words.

By the fourth, sweat was standing out on Bucky’s brow and Steve felt his own hands curl into fists. He paused, glaring at Layal as she spoke even though he knew this was necessary. It wasn’t her fault; he knew she was only the messenger but Steve ached to make someone pay for what had been done to his friend. Watching him disappear right before Steve’s eyes was difficult and quite frankly terrifying.

Bucky let go of the chair and settled back, his eyes blank. Steve shuddered in spite of himself and Layal took half a step back, looking to Shuri.

“He needs a chance to fight.” The Wakandan said quietly, watching her monitors.

“ _Soldat_.” Layal nodded, turning to face the Soldier. “Are you ready to comply?” Her voice was strained, Steve noticed, but it was the man in the chair who held his attention. The Soldier was well and truly in control, his expression devoid of the nervousness Bucky had displayed only minutes earlier.

“Ready to comply.” The Soldier spoke in a rough monotone.

“Status.”

“Awaiting mission details. Awaiting weaponry. Awaiting orders.”

Her shadows seemed to shiver and she took a deep breath. Stepping forward again, she waited until the Soldier was looking at her.

“Tell me what you know about Tank Six.” She ordered. Steve looked to Shuri, who seemed unperturbed. Fadyazi looked to the princess as well, one hand dropping to her weapon but Shuri waved her off. What was going on?

“Tank Six contains the Shadow.” The Soldier replied.

“And what is the Shadow?”

“The Shadow was a retrieval mission. Order received and obeyed.” The Soldier’s gaze dropped; he stared through them all as he spoke and a shiver ran down Steve’s spine. “October 12, 1996. Package was a small child extracted from a facility in Parnu. No witnesses. Do not touch the package. Ensure sedation is maintained. Escort to extraction point south of Korsa. Maintain package integrity. Eliminate if sedation is not maintained.”

“Other orders relating to the Shadow and Tank Six?” Layal’s voice was low and her hands were tight fists clenched against her chest. Steve would have cheerfully thrown her out the window but Shuri was shaking her head furiously at him.

“If Tank Six is compromised, eliminate the Shadow. If the Shadow is not contained, eliminate the Shadow.” 

“What is your assessment of the Shadow?”

“Weak.” Came the prompt reply. “Will not comply. Unworthy of further examination.”

The Soldier fell silent, awaiting the next order. Layal stumbled backwards, her hands dropping to her sides. Shuri started the reversal process, three syringes emptying their contents into the Soldier’s neck.

The Soldier roared, straining against his bonds. Steve closed his eyes, unable to watch, but the sedation was quick and within a minute Bucky slumped forward, his hands lax.

“What the hell was that?” Steve demanded, wheeling to face her. Layal didn’t meet his eyes, hiding her hands in a rolling ball of darkness and staring at Bucky. “You thought you’d take advantage to go poking around in his head?”

“Captain.” Fadyazi took a pace forward but Layal held her ground, meeting his eyes and setting her chin.

“He cannot remember as himself. The Soldier remembers.” Her quiet tone didn’t do anything to calm Steve down.

“That’s no excuse!” His temper flared. “The longer he spends as the Soldier the more damage is done. You have no right to use him like that!”

“His memories-“

“Are not your toy!” He ran a hand through his hair, fighting the urge to kick something. From what Bucky had said they were close to being friends. How could she risk damaging him for the sake of her own curiosity? “You’re supposed to be his friend.” She bowed her head, acknowledging he was right. “Say the words, test him, that’s it. No interrogations, no engaging. He’s been through enough!”

“Captain Rogers.” Shuri interrupted. “No shouting in my lab, thank you.” She glared at him and he pressed a hand to his eyes. “Feel free to wait outside. Some fresh air will do you good.”

“I apologise.” He took a deep breath. “But this isn’t okay.”

“I needed the Soldier to be engaged long enough to test Sergeant Barnes.” She crossed her arms. “Now, are you going to walk out of here unassisted or will be you carried?”


	11. Chapter 11

Layal was escorted back to her apartment by Fadyazi, who returned immediately to Shuri. The princess was already overseeing the transfer of Barnes back to his own quarters, asking an aide to stay with him and make sure he took the anti-nausea drink when he woke up.

“Get my brother.” She ordered.

“He is on his way.” Fadyazi replied. Shuri nodded, already dialling up the footage of the trial. By the time T’Challa arrived, she had watched it over, noting the details down, and ran it again, watching the body language.

“So we have a starting point.” The king said thoughtfully.

“We don’t know what is meant by ‘child’ but it’s a start.” Shuri replied.

“How is she now?”

Shuri’s reply was to point to a screen to his left. It was black but as he watched she turned the infra-red on.

Layal was lying on the floor, her feet tucked up and her hands covering her face. With the infra-red filter her shadow wasn’t visible but T’Challa guessed that she would have been hidden safely behind it.

“Fadyazi said that she was sick before coming to the lab.” Shuri frowned. “Her vitals are showing signs of stress. She didn’t want to do this.”

“I would imagine so.” He murmured.

“So why did she?”

“Because he asked her to.” T’Challa glanced at his sister, grinning at her innocently blank look. “I’m not so blind as you seem to think, sister. She knows nothing of the world except what she saw in that room.”

“And she saw him.”

“She triggered him because he asked her to, and she questioned him because he told her to.” T’Challa got to his feet. “We will see what her questions help us to unearth.”

  


Bucky cracked an eye open, closing it again hastily. Whatever Shuri was giving him, he was seriously considering asking for a more physical solution instead. He’d much rather have Steve’s fist imprinted on his face than the current pressure inside his skull.

Stretching cautiously, he realised he was in his own bed. Groaning, he managed to roll onto his side without his head falling off. He waited until the bed stopped spinning before dragging himself upright, opening his eyes blearily.

“Hey.” Steve was leaning against the doorframe, looking more than a little amused.

“Hey.” He rubbed the back of his head, surprised to find it was still intact.

“Shuri said you’re meant to drink that.” Steve pointed at the glass next to the bed before disappearing back to the living room. Bucky stared at the glass for a long moment before attempting to reach for it. Pulling a face at the trembling in his hand, he down the sugary syrup in one go and counted to ten before trying to stand up.

It took him three goes before he managed to lurch out into the living area where Steve was waiting with a strong coffee for him. Grinning his thanks, he half-fell onto one of the counter stools and regarded the steaming mug like an old friend.

“That bad, huh?” Steve asked sympathetically.

“It doesn’t last.” It was already wearing off and he lifted the cup experimentally. No sloshing: score one point for the invalid with the scrambled brain. He sipped carefully, remembering that Steve usually made his coffee strong enough to dissolve the spoon. Combined with the medicine, it didn’t take long before he felt steady enough to look up at Steve without falling off his chair.

“Is Layal okay?” He asked. Steve’s expression tightened.

“Do you remember anything?” He asked. Bucky thought back, his heart sinking.

“It’s always blurry. I’m not sure yet. What did I do?” The first test had gone relatively well, considering. No one had been hurt and Shuri had been so optimistic...

“It wasn’t you.”

“What happened?” He didn’t want to know but he had to ask. He knew Steve was trying to protect him from the Soldier but Bucky had regained enough memories to know it was futile. The Soldier had more blood on his hands than Bucky could bear to think about but he refused to hide from it, especially when everyone else was working so hard to fix him.

“Layal crossed the line.”

“What?” He’d been expecting something else and it took him a moment to catch up.

“She went off script and started questioning... him.”

“She asked about herself?” Bucky was both relieved and, for a reason he couldn’t identify, pleased. He hadn’t been sure she’d go through with it, especially if she’d been stressed to the point of vomiting before she’d even arrived. “Did it work?”

“Did it... you knew?” Steve hesitated.

“I told her to do it, if the Soldier appeared.” He took in Steve’s sudden discomfort and grew more serious. “What did I say?”

“It wasn’t what you said. Well, not entirely.” Steve picked up his own mug, looking uncomfortable. “I kind of lost my temper. I didn’t know you’d told her to do it and I thought...”

“That she was taking advantage?” Bucky finished wryly. Steve nodded slowly.

“She didn’t tell me it was planned.”

Bucky wasn’t surprised. She’d been learning to speak up more but Steve had only been back a short while and she didn’t know him. 

“What did she find out?” Steve didn’t look happy but Bucky had stared him down over far more trivial matters. Super-soldier or not, Steve wasn’t going to get out of the conversation no matter how much he wanted to. “Steve?”

“The Soldier has standing orders to kill her if she’s out of her tank.” Steve said finally.

Bucky let out a slow breath. The first thing she’d said to him was to ask if he was going to kill her. She’d known about the order already and she’d still agreed to run the trial, because he’d asked her to. It didn’t make any sense, except that it did. He put his coffee down, wishing he had something cold to press to the nagging headache at the back of his neck.

“What else?”

“The Winter Soldier doesn’t think much of her.” Steve met his gaze, looking resigned. “He kidnapped her when she was a child.”

“It was a hospital.” Bucky said slowly. “She was in a ward in a hospital.” He gripped the edge of the counter, letting his mind wander. “She was only about four.” So far as crimes went, he had no idea where to rank stealing a child. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  


Layal had been one of his own missions. With that knowledge, details came flooding back. Bucky had retreated to bed, telling Steve he needed to sleep off the remnants of his headache. He knew Steve knew that he was lying but he went anyway, promising to check in on him later.

Bucky collapsed onto the bed, resisting the urge to pull the pillow over his head. It hadn’t worked when he was a child and it wouldn’t work now, when the monster was already inside his head.

Did she know that already? Did people have memories from such a young age? Did it matter? Whether she remembered or not, she knew now. He felt sick already but that added another heap of guilt and regret to the load and he wondered exactly how much more he’d discover about himself before it became too much.

He rubbed his eyes, leaving his hand covering his face. He had never shed tears over what he’d done but he’d never really faced any of his victims either. Whatever else had happened, he’d managed to compound the damage by asking her to take part in the very process that was responsible for her being kept like a specimen in a jar.

Groaning, he wondered why she ever agreed to leave the base with them. How could she stand to talk to him? Most unarmed people knew to run when he was nearby and she...

Would not comply.

She resisted when she could. His hand dropped to his chest and he stared at the ceiling. She’d resisted when she could, and when she couldn’t, she protected herself as best she could. She’d been trapped in her cage, watching while he was wiped and reset time and again, her shadow the only tool she had to distract the handlers from their task.

How did someone grow up like that and still retain any semblance of compassion?


	12. Chapter 12

Steve knocked on Layal’s door, unsurprised when it was Fadyazi who opened it. She regarded him with an expectant look and he had a sudden flashback, remembering the same expression on Bucky’s mother’s face.

“How is Sergeant Barnes?” She asked, stepping aside to let him in.

“Sleeping it off.”

“I will give you some privacy.” She glanced past him into the living room. “I will be back soon.” She slipped out of the door, closing it quietly, and Steve turned to the living room.

It was dim, the lights turned down, and he couldn’t see anyone.

“I’ve come to apologise.” He felt a little silly, announcing it to an empty room. The darkness shifted slightly and Layal appeared, sitting in the corner with her legs tucked up. She regarded him silently and he looked away, unwilling to meet her black gaze. “May I sit?”

She nodded and he dropped onto the sofa.

“I overreacted.” He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “I didn’t know he’d told you to ask and I assumed the worst.”

“It’s okay.” She laced her fingers around her knees.

“No, it’s not.” He wasn’t sure how to explain but he didn’t want to get off so easily. “I’ve spent years looking for him. And then, with everything that happened in Europe...” He realised she’d have no idea about any of that. “Well, we’ve always looked out for each other. It’s a hard habit to break.”

“He’s your friend.” She shrugged, as if it were that simple, and he grinned ruefully. Maybe it was.

“I’m sorry anyway. I’ve never seen him change like that and it was a shock.”

“It doesn’t get easier.”

“I guess not.” He tilted his head. “Did he watch you, when they tried to trigger you?”

“Words don’t work on me.” She shrugged. “They tried, then they stopped. They said I wouldn’t comply.” She chewed her bottom lip, thinking. “He wasn’t always there. They used the others. But he saw, like I did.”

“What did he see?” Steve asked quietly.

“They knew how to hurt.” She shrugged again.

“Is that why you came with us?”

“No.” She held his gaze for a long moment, her eyes shining in the dim light. The gloom around her dropped slightly, her shadow becoming more defined as it curled up between her feet. “The handlers left and did not return. He left and when he returned he was not the Soldier.” She stared at her hands, turning them over slowly. “If I left too, maybe I would not be weak. Useless. Alone.”

  


“Two children were admitted to the hospital the week of the Winter Soldier’s mission.” Shuri and Steve were listening to T’Challa, who was skimming a report he’d received that morning. “One was discharged two days later into the care of her parents, the other died from acute pneumonia.”

“The child that died?” Shuri asked.

“It wouldn’t be a challenge for Hydra to cover up a kidnapping with a death.” Steve suggested.

“There is no family.” T’Challa looked up. “No one to compare DNA with.”

“So it could be her but it might not be.” Shuri didn’t look impressed. “And that still doesn’t explain why she was there in the first place. What could a four-year-old do that could capture their attention so fully?”

“Nothing else has manifested?” T’Challa asked.

“No.” Shuri scowled. “She had a shadow that draws pictures when it feels like it, and according to you she can turn into a shadow and slide up a wall when she feels like it. Neither of these things suggest a serious threat.”

“But they were trying to find a way to utilise it.” T’Challa said thoughtfully. “Perhaps you are right.” He turned to Shuri. “Perhaps we should have her ask Zemo directly.”

“Is that such a good idea?” Steve asked.

“He’s the only one that seems to know anything.” She replied. “He’s the only one who can explain why he seems to be so scared of her.”

Steve couldn’t argue with that. He wasn’t comfortable with the idea but they were at a loss. With Bucky recovering from two shocks - the failed trial and the Soldier’s report - he wasn’t inclined to push much harder until Bucky found his bearings, and Layal didn’t seem to know anything further either. Until they found out what she was capable of, it was possible that T’Challa was putting his own people at risk just having her there. It wasn’t fair to avoid their best lead when their host had already risked so much.

  


“There’s a screen between him and us.” Steve reminded her the next morning. She had agreed to T’Challa’s request, although she’d seemed subdued. Steve had offered to accompany her, still feeling guilty about his outburst in the lab. He’d been a little surprised that she’d agreed but he’d also noticed how tightly her shadow was weaving around her shoulders.

“Ready?” T’Challa was standing at the doorway. She nodded. T’Challa nodded to the guard and the door slid open.

Inside, the lights had been dimmed for Layal but it was still fairly bright in Zemo’s cell. The man himself was sitting on his bed, apparently waiting for them.

T’Challa entered the room first and Zemo lifted his chin expectantly. He saw Steve next and his smile grew.

“Gentlemen.” He stood up, then caught sight of Layal, standing behind Steve. His smile dropped away and he moved closer to the barrier between them. “And the Shadow herself.”

Steve glanced at T’Challa, seeing the same hesitation on the face of the king. Zemo wasn’t the slightest bit nervous. Layal was staring at the floor, her shadow coiling around her feet.

“I’m glad you’ve had a chance to experience the world outside your tank.” Zemo smiled warmly. Layal glanced at him hesitantly, her dark gaze moving up to meet his eyes.

Steve heard her gasp and turned in time to see her stagger, her eyes locked on the silent prisoner in front of them.

“Layal?” He reached a hand out but her shadow flicked up, whirling around her so fast that her hair actually moved. Sweat beaded along her temple and she took a jagged breath. Her shadow dropped to the floor, utterly still.

“Now then.” Zemo straightened slightly, a soldier moving to attention. He took a step sideways, touching the wall with one palm. “Get me out of here.”

The lights dipped as her shadow surged down, spreading out. Steve leapt back, pushing T’Challa out of the way, but Layal was already gone, a dark blur across the floor. She moved almost too fast for Steve to track, through the barrier and up the wall, enveloping Zemo before rocketing back up to the ceiling and out through a vent barely an inch across. In less than three seconds, they were both gone.


	13. Chapter 13

The complex was locked down instantly but Layal had slipped through with no more difficulty than a drop of water moving through a river. T’Challa and Steve joined the teams searching each floor until Shuri summoned them to the control room on the top floor.

“Look at this.” She pulled up the footage. “Zemo has been under constant surveillance since he arrived. So has Layal, only we’ve been monitoring her in infra-red so we can still see her when she goes dark, and we have UV filters to make sure there’s nothing too bright for her.” She showed them Zemo’s cell, moments before they arrived. “Watch.” She changed the view and it went from colour to an odd shade of greenish grey.

“What the hell...” Steve leaned forward. Zemo had a tattoo along his left eyebrow, a symbol that looked like some kind of cyrillic lettering.

“It’s a UV tattoo.” Shuri said tightly. Steve glanced at her; she looked furious but he recognised the expression - she was mad at herself for not figuring it out sooner. He knew exactly what that felt like. “He must have had it done more than a year ago or we would have noticed the scarring. As it is, the area around the symbol was tattooed also, to make it appear more like a scar than something recognisable.”

“It’s a trigger.” T’Challa said flatly. Closing his eyes for a moment, he opened them and studied the symbol. “He asked several times if we’d found her trigger.”

“This whole thing was a setup.” Steve hated the shifting feeling that came with being outplayed. “He was never scared of her, he just didn’t want her to see his face.”

“She was his ticket out.” T’Challa exchanged a look with the American.

“He knew he couldn’t get to Siberia and out again before we caught up with him.” Steve said slowly, seeing the pieces fall into place. “So he made sure we’d take her out for him.” His head dropped and he gripped the back of the chair in front of him. They’d done everything he’d intended, creating an air of mystery around Layal that only he could unravel.

“We’ll find him.” T’Challa promised grimly. “We’ll find them both.”

  


Bucky woke up disoriented, wondering what the banging was. His thoughts had been circling the same terrible path for what seemed like forever but he’d eventually managed to get some sleep, dreaming of Steve’s mother and the multitudes of promises she’d extracted from him to keep her son safe, but the knocking on the front door jerked him awake, his dream dissolving between one blink and the next.

He got up but it opened before he reached it, Steve and T’Challa coming in with grim expressions, both dressed in their respective combat gear. Steve had lost the Avenger markings and replaced all his colours with shades of grey but it was the look on his face that gave Bucky a foreboding feeling.

“What’s happened?” He asked, not entirely sure he wanted to know.

“Zemo used Layal to escape.”

“What? How?” Any fuzziness from being woken was abruptly gone and he looked from one to the other.

“He had a visual trigger tattooed in UV ink. She turned and he ordered her to take him out.” T’Challa’s expression was impossible to read and Bucky’s bad feeling grew.

“He planned this whole thing?”

“Can you remember anything about visual triggers?” Steve asked. “Do you know what this means?” He handed Bucky a printed still of the footage. It didn’t look familiar at first glance but he frowned at it, trying to think. He paused, then turned it upside down.

“It’s two letters run together and flipped, the equivalent of A and B.” He looked up.

“Anyuta Berzins.” T’Challa said. “The name of the child that died the night Layal was taken.”

“Have you ever seen this before?” Steve asked. Bucky shook his head.

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.” He traced the letters on the paper. “I only saw some of the initial training, I think.”

“It’s almost midnight.” T’Challa said. “They have hours of darkness ahead of them. We need to find them.”

“She can’t stay a shadow for long.” Bucky said. “She was wiped out by the time she got to the top of the stairs at the base.”

“She’d just woken up then.” Steve pointed out.

“She’s carrying someone else, too, that’s got to be slowing her down.” Bucky shook his head, trying to think. “Where would Zemo go?”

“He’ll need to escape Wakanda as quickly as possible. The closest border from here is north, into Ethiopia.” T’Challa replied. “Our border security has been instructed to sweep with UV lights but they cannot cover every inch of the border.”

“UV?” Bucky asked.

“We need to stop Zemo, Buck.” Steve said. “If she’s been triggered then she could be just as dangerous as the Winter Soldier.”

“I’m coming with you.”

  


They took one of T’Challa’s jets, T’Challa piloting while Shuri fed them information from the safety of her lab. They moved north quickly, scanning the terrain with infra-red scanners and using the UV lights over anything they couldn’t immediately identify.

Bucky, sitting behind Steve at the rear of the cabin, wondered if Steve had felt the same sick worry when he’d been looking for Bucky. Layal hadn’t even done anything but it was her weakness they were looking to exploit and the only thing he could do about it was hope to get there first. It was enough to drive him crazy and he’d already cracked the arm of his chair without noticing.

“We’re gonna find them.” Steve offered, glancing at him.

“She’s never been outside.” Bucky muttered. “What’s Zemo going to do with her when the sun comes up?” Sunrise was in less than four hours and they didn’t seem to be making any progress. He pulled his metal fingers into a fist, staring at them numbly. When had it become so important that she be safe?

“She chose to leave with us.” Steve reminded him, mistaking his tension for guilt. “She didn’t want to be alone.”

“She said that?” Bucky was startled.

“She said that you returning and not being the Soldier any more gave her hope.” Steve was watching the scanners as they skimmed over a small rise, and missed the look that passed over Bucky’s face. Closing his eyes, the former Soldier took a deep breath, wishing he could feel a cold whisper on his arm.

“Shit.” He let his head fall back. He wasn’t just worried about her, he was close to actively panicking. He hadn’t spoken to her since before the trial two days earlier, trying to balance his newfound memories with the physical effects of bringing the Soldier to the surface, but not knowing where she was or if she was safe was suddenly eating at him more than he could fathom.

There was a crack as the arm separated from the rest of the chair and he dropped it, leaning forward and rubbing his face, not entirely sure what to do.

“Are you breaking my plane?” Shuri demanded, her voice crystal clear through the comms attached below his ear. T’Challa glanced back, his expression inscrutable.

“Sorry.”

“Fadyazi says to tell you that you are a little slow, Sergeant Barnes, but she’s pleased you’re catching up.” The teenager was laughing at him and he scowled, ignoring the raised eyebrows in the co-pilot’s seat. He sat back, hoping Steve couldn’t see him clearly in the dim light, and let his thoughts wander. Since he’d fallen into the habit of visiting Layal he’d been sleeping better but he’d put that down to the fact that he felt free enough to talk about his old life. Which was, he realised, because it was her that he was talking to. And Fadyazi, watching Layal’s apartment and everyone in it, had recognised that well before he had.

Suddenly feeling incredibly dense, he felt a flush creep up his neck, the heat mocking how badly he wanted to feel a whisper of cold.

“You okay?” Steve was looking at him, blue eyes full of concern.

“I’m a little slow.” He managed, not surprised to hear an edge in his voice. Shuri laughed in his ear and he shook his head, grimacing. He needed a few days in a dark room to try and wrap his head around things. But even telling himself that was a lie because what he _needed_ was to find Layal and see those dark eyes shining up at him, safe and trusting.

“Sergeant Barnes.” Shuri stopped laughing, putting on what Bucky had dubbed ‘the doctor’s voice.’ “Your monitor is distracting. Please try some breathing exercises. This is not the time for a panic attack.”

Steve wheeled around fully and Bucky lifted his chin, not in the mood for sympathy.

“What?” He demanded. Bucky glared at him.

“What?” He couldn’t muster a better response. “Watch the scanners, would ya?”

“Are we going to have a problem?” Steve sounded worried and Bucky realised that his friend had no idea that he was having a minor epiphany.

“No.” It wasn’t his temper that was the problem, it was the jittery feeling threatening to undo him that had Bucky so distracted. “There’s only three hours until sunrise.”

“You want to tell me what’s going on?” Steve asked, locking his chair into position so that he was facing Bucky.

“No.”

“My mistake.” He raised an eyebrow. “I’ll rephrase. Why is this tying you in knots?”

Bucky stopped and levelled such a deadpan gaze at Steve that the other man’s jaw dropped.

“Are you serious? Layal?”

“I didn’t even really know.” Bucky dropped his head into his hands and groaned. “I mean, it was just...” He shook his head, unable to explain. Steve’s expression altered slightly, taking on a sympathy that brought a rueful smile to Bucky’s face. He’d always been the one to have all the confidence around the girls, back in the old days, and he had used that same sympathetic look on Steve more than once. He sighed. “At first I was just feeling responsible, you know? We took her from the only place she knew. I couldn’t just leave her on her own. Then..” He stared at his hands. “Have you seen her smile? Really smile? I don’t know. She just... became more important.”

“Did you tell her?”

“No.” He snorted. “I didn’t even really know until you showed up with the king to say she was gone. Turned.” Something twisted in his chest and he stood up, too jittery to sit still any longer. “Even so, I’d be taking advantage and that wouldn’t be fair. So no, she doesn’t know.”

“Are you sure about that?” T’Challa asked quietly, not turning around.

“That I’d be taking advantage?”

“That she doesn’t know.” The king shook his head like Bucky was an idiot and the former Soldier had the disorienting feeling that he was the only one who’d had no idea what his emotions were doing. “You know she was stressed before the second trial but do you know how upset she was after the first one?”

“You should have put her somewhere else.” Bucky muttered. “This is a mess.”

“It might help her.” Steve reasoned. “You started remembering because I made you. She might be able to fight back the same way.”

“We have to find her first.” Bucky muttered.

“I know.” Steve’s glare softened. “We’ll find them.”

“Yeah.”


	14. Chapter 14

Layal ached. Every muscle she had hurt and her eyes burned. Her shadow wrapped tighter around her, trying to numb the pain and squeezing so hard she could barely breathe.

“Shadow.”

The voice was coming from above her. She shuddered, dread coiling in her belly.

“Shadow.” Something tugged at her hair, pulling her up into a sitting position. Fingers gripped her chin and she opened her eyes, and was lost.

  


They were only minutes from the border when the main console in front of T’Challa lit up and Shuri’s voice filled the cockpit, sounding grim. Bucky steeled himself, careful to clench his fists in his lap rather than destroying the rest of his chair.

“We’ve had a report. One of the employees at a medical facility north of the city never arrived for his shift this morning. His behaviour has been under review for some time so his superiors checked. They are missing a large quantity of several drugs.”

“And you think it’s related?” T’Challa asked.

“He was a War Dog.” Shuri replied. “He spent four years working as an orderly for an overseas aid service. He had failed a psychological review six months ago and there were concerns about his loyalties.”

“War dog?” Steve asked.

“A Wakandan intelligence agent.” T’Challa explained.

“Is it possible they met outside Wakanda?” Steve thought aloud, studying the image of the man on the screen in front of him, a shot from the security camera at the lab from the last shift he had worked. 

“How long has this been planned?” T’Challa mused. “And what’s his goal?”

“There’s more.” Shuri did something and their plane began to bank slightly. “Three men have been discovered by Ethiopian police, murdered at an illegal platinum mine. There was a fourth man who died shortly after being discovered, but he told the authorities about a black ghost.”

“Layal.” Steve murmured. Bucky closed his eyes. Was she capable of murder? Catching himself, he remembered that it wasn’t Layal they were searching for, it was the Shadow. If he was holding onto his sanity by keeping the Winter Soldier at bay as a separate entity, he had to afford her the same treatment.

“The two police officers have been stranded by vehicle difficulties.” Shuri said. “They are several hours from help.”

“So we can investigate before they do.” T’Challa finished. “Good work, sister.”

“How did they die?” Steve asked. Bucky’s eyes popped open.

“They were shot.” Shuri told him. The pressure in his chest eased; Layal had confided that she’d seen him use weapons but had never handled one herself. It was a very small, infinitely tiny bright spot but he held onto it, taking a measured breath.

“Bucky.” Steve was talking to him. He looked up, his hands in tight fists. “Can you remember anything else about her abilities? Can she do anything else or is she only able to move people?”

“I - the Soldier - thought she was weak. She had no stamina. I don’t know if they experimented with other people but she was exhausted just moving herself.” He grimaced. “That could have been the lights though. They kept her contained with spotlights.”

“If she’s been triggered, would exhaustion matter?”

“No.” He swallowed. “She’ll obey until she drops.”

“What is his goal?” Steve sounded frustrated. “How does that make her so valuable that he’d risk so much, and spend so much time planning?”

“This plan seems to be far larger than we anticipated.” T’Challa agreed.

“Yeah, but what’s the aim?” They two been tossing ideas between them while Bucky had been brooding but nothing seemed to match the amount of planning and time that had gone into it so far.

“If she can get through our defences, she can go anywhere, and transport anyone with her.” T’Challa suggested.

“Anything else coming to mind?” Steve asked. “If she’s capable of that, why would Hydra consider her a failed experiment?”

The phrase made Bucky tighten his metal hand into a fist. They’d been his own words but they tasted like ash. He wished he could remember more but his memory was tantalisingly out of reach. He tilted his head, thinking. There was something else but he couldn’t grasp it.

“The Soldier knows.” He said darkly. “But I can’t remember clearly enough.”

“Then we keep guessing.” Steve replied firmly. Bucky, anticipating the reply, turned to T’Challa.

“Is there somewhere I can be restrained?” He asked.

“You would consent to being turned?” The king didn’t hide his surprise.

“If it helps.” Bucky set his chin, stubbornly avoiding Steve’s gaze. T’Challa considered for a long moment, Bucky’s heart hammering as the seconds stretched out.

“Having one triggered victim of Hydra is enough to deal with.” T’Challa said, his tone surprisingly gentle. “You will be of more use to us - and to your friend - as yourself.” Bucky smiled shyly, relieved in spite of himself. He would do it but the king was right, having the Soldier would just complicate things especially since Zemo had already managed to call him to the surface once before. The idea of the Soldier turning on T’Challa and Steve made him queasy.

“All right.” He straightened. “So what’s the plan?”

  


The plan involved a pair of earplugs for Bucky, which he looked at dubiously but fitted on anyway. It was one thing to offer the Winter Soldier to T’Challa, it was another to have Zemo summon him while they were underground.

“As soon as the first word is spoken, you’ll hear only white noise.” T’Challa explained. “Your comms will still work through it but the rest of the words will have no effect.”

“Maybe I should just nail these to my head.” Bucky tapped them. They were light and he could still hear T’Challa relatively well.

“And how we find nails that strong, that fast?” Steve asked, tightening his gloves and ignoring Bucky’s glare. T’Challa managed to keep a smile to himself as he tossed two tiny probes into the air. They hovered in front of him for a moment, then shot out of the plane and towards the tin building thirty feet away.

“These will provide a map of the tunnels.” He explained, bringing up a display from the main console. “They’ll also show heat signatures so we can find them faster.”

It didn’t take long for a map to emerge. The probes apparently went in opposite directions, dropping down in the underground complex and building a quick sketch of where they be going. One heat signature was in what appeared to be a transfer area next to an elevator shaft. The outline of heavy machinery appeared; good cover and a good defensive position. Bucky and Steve exchanged glances. It wasn’t going to be easy.

The probe dropped down another level, mapping quickly and finding nothing. Ahead of it and mapping a second shaft, the second probe arrived at a lower level that opened out into a large chamber, filled with more equipment and a dozen people.

“Is this place operational?” Steve asked.

“Not according to what we could find.” Shuri replied, her voice pinging around the inside of Bucky’s head. “But it’s off the books so there’s no official records at all.”

Another level appeared, empty, and a fifth. There were three heat signatures there, and a dark mass that suggested the opposite of heat. Bucky’s breath caught.

“Finally.” Shuri sounded triumphant.

“We still have to get down to them.” Steve reminded her.

“No, not that.” She retorted. “Although that’s good too. Finally, we’ve found the documents that Zemo said Black Widow released.”

“Case files?” T’Challa turned to another console and an image of Shuri appeared. She was scanning something to her left but turned a worried face to her brother. Bucky swallowed.

“The Shadow was being trained as an assassin.” She was still reading as she spoke. “She was to be deployed anywhere and eliminate targets, then escape with no trace.”

“Well the last part is successful.” Steve muttered.

“The programming wasn’t successful. Language triggers failed entirely and light treatment was ineffective against her biology.”

“So they changed to UV.”

“But she was designated a failure.” Bucky said softly. “She was never deployed.”

“No but they were still working on it.” Shuri’s voice softened. Bucky stiffened; now was not the time to start thinking too hard about sympathy. “Zemo pieced together a proposal, a new tactic they were going to try, only the handlers ran when Hydra was exposed. They thought they’d be raided. They were killed in an avalanche on their way back to civilisation.”

“So he had to find someone else who had been to the base, to get a location.” Steve looked at Bucky, who nodded slowly.

“But why such a risky operation to recover an untested prototype?” Bucky used the phrase deliberately. He had to find some distance between their mission and his worry for Layal’s safety, or the whole thing would end in disaster.

“Because the proposal is sound.” Shuri’s tone was grim. “The Soldier said that the Shadow was weak and would not comply. With the advances the western world has made in drug technology, they would have found a way within twenty years. With Wakandan technology, they can strengthen the trigger and make it absolute, and increase Layal’s stamina at the same time. That would be like giving her a serum, gentlemen, like you were, and they can do it now.”

“A supersoldier that can walk through walls.” Bucky said slowly. “And Zemo’s the only one with her trigger.”

“Zemo meets one of our War Dogs and finds out that Wakanda has the technology he needs.” T’Challa theorised. “He already has the trigger, he just needs to find the base and retrieve the Shadow.”

“Which we did for him.” Steve finished. “And then we put the two together.” He looked up. “But what’s his target?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Bucky muttered. “He could run a global protection racket and never deploy her at all. Or he could take over whole countries for the highest bidder.” His shoulders sagged and his voice became ragged. “We have to stop him. Stop them both.”


	15. Chapter 15

There was grit under her cheek. Layal drew a jagged breath, smelling fumes and oil. Keeping her eyes closed, she drew her shadow in close, trying to do it slowly. Her eyes still burned from the early morning sun; Zemo had given her a scarf to wrap her head but it had done little good and by the time they’d reached the mine from the road she’d been all but blind with pain. Now, she could see nothing at all and was relying on her shadow to feel her surroundings but it was difficult to concentrate. Pain was radiating from everywhere and although she knew they were in relative darkness it felt like she’d been flayed under a thousand spotlights. Her hands were blistered from the sun and every time she closed her fingers they split open and stung.

Zemo had been apologetic, telling her that there were treatments at their destination that would heal her and make the sun more bearable. She didn’t reply, too worried about how they’d even arrived.

She couldn’t remember. Why couldn’t she remember?

  


T’Challa went first, his apparently friendly smile allowing him to get close enough to the sentry to disable him. Once he was down, Steve helped the king drag him to a corner and trussed him up, relieving him off his comms and weapons. Bucky hung back, keeping an eye on the exit and the door that led down to the elevator shaft. He touched a hand to the firearm that T’Challa had given him, resisting the urge to draw it. It was some kind of pulse weapon similar to what the Dora carried but he wished he had a regular, familiar rifle. Something he could use on Zemo without the risk of unfamiliar weaponry.

His attempt at staying impartial was stretched to breaking point and he knew it. He had a feeling Shuri knew it too, the monitoring device she’d strapped to his wrist relaying his stress levels back to her. As much as he hoped they’d get to Zemo before he did whatever he had planned to Layal, there was every chance she wouldn’t be returning with them.

He trailed the other two to the elevators. Built for heavy machinery, it was huge and the three men spread out easily, avoiding each other’s gazes and waiting. They dropped down to the first empty level and he and T’Challa got off. Bucky lifted his head and drew his gun, meeting T’Challa’s nod.

“See you downstairs.” Steve clapped a hand to his shoulder before moving to the centre of the lift. Bucky followed the king down a side passage, hearing the lift clang shut.

“There are nine men on the next level.” Shuri reported. “There are also gas canisters to the south of the elevator. Make sure you don’t hit them, it will give Zemo too much warning that you’re there.”

“Yes ma’am.” Bucky murmured, jogging behind T’Challa.

“I’m not old enough to be a ma’am.” She laughed in his ear.

“Yes princess.” He corrected, managing to sound a lot jauntier than he felt. Shuri muttered something that he didn’t understand, and T’Challa’s laugh rumbled through the comms. Bucky mentally shrugged but smiled faintly, relishing how good it felt to have backup with him.

They rounded a corner in time to see Steve launch from the elevator, taking two of the miners at a dead sprint. He bowled through them completely, intent on the larger group still sitting at a table, a card game scattered between various weapons.

Bucky grabbed the closest one as T’Challa joined the fray, and the three of them got to work. Bucky threw his opponent head first into the side of a truck, scooping up his rifle in the process and using the stock to take out the next one. Beside him, T’Challa absorbed two blows to his torso and sent both of his assailants flying, narrowly missing Steve, who looked like he was enjoying himself far too much for someone outnumbered four to one. Bucky shook his head, then ducked as a massive wrench was hurled in his direction.

“You need to get down two more levels.” Shuri ordered. “Run, tin man!”

Bucky took off, moving around the melee towards the far exit. There was another shaft there but the lift was missing, already at the next level down. Bucky recalled the map and guestimated the drop as he approached, his speed not slowing as he leapt over the edge.

“Oh!” Shuri’s voice was breathless in his ear and he debated whether to rip the comm off his neck. His boots hit the elevator roof and went right through and he landed on the floor with an echoing thud. Throwing open the door, he hit his stride and tore down the corridor.

“Bucky, wait for us.” Steve was somewhere above him, sounding only slightly breathless. Bucky ignored him, swinging around a corner and barely avoided being shot in the face. Skidding to a halt, he almost lost his balance as he bought the rifle to bear.

It wasn’t loaded. Throwing it away in disgust, he pulled his gun as he moved back around the corner, out of the line of fire.

“Problem?” Steve caught up with him, grinning in the dim light.

“Nope.” Bucky leaned back and fired around the corner. There was a yelp and a muffled thud. “You?”

“Just like old times.”

“We’re not doing that badly.” Bucky peered around the corner but couldn’t see anything. “Where’s T’Challa?”

“Taking the east corridor. The probes are still mapping and this place has a dozen escape routes.”

“Best get to it then.” Bucky straightened and rounded the corner.

“Listen.” Steve followed. “I know you’ve spending a lot of time in the gym lately.”

“Yeah. And?”

“Even so, you don’t think this seems a bit...” They rounded another corner and the floor space opened out. It was empty, but for a large refrigeration unit and two human-shaped mannequins. “Easy.” One of the dummies had a hastily scrawled smile across its face. Bucky bit his lip, holding back the curses that came to mind. They stared at the scene for a moment, then swung around as one to face the source of the noise behind them.

“It seems we have been outplayed. Again.” T’Challa appeared, regarding the unit with dark eyes. Above his shoulder, a probe hovered, relaying a feed back to Shuri.

“This man is becoming a problem.” She sounded furious.

“He’s one step ahead every time.” Bucky’s frustration swelled and he threw the door of the cooler open. Inside was a body, an older man with a bullet hole through his head. The rest of the unit was stuffed full of heavily wired explosives. Bucky stared at it for a long moment but nothing happened and he exhaled slowly.

“It gets worse.” Shuri told them. “Your jet has gone offline and there are two helicopters leaving the area.”

“What?” T’Challa turned. “Fastest way up?”

“Stairs. East. Two junctions straight, then right, then up.” She replied. “There’s a probe already ahead but follow this one.” It shot off and the three men started after it, Bucky flicking the refrigerator door shut. With their unnatural speed, they were already halfway to the surface when the ground rumbled. Bucky was jolted sideways, colliding with Steve, and the all three men froze, listening.

“We need to move.” T’Challa gripped Bucky’s shoulder, his claws finding purchase between the metal plates, and Bucky clamped his own hand around Steve’s arm. The king dragged them up, the ground heaving beneath them. Shuri was shouting something but Bucky was too busy trying to keep his footing to listen.

His heart pounding in his ears, he tightened his grip on Steve and the three superhumans put on a burst of speed, tearing up the rusted staircase as the walls began to tilt. They exploded out into the tin shed on the surface and scattered, rolling out of the way as the building sagged in, then blew apart with a muted rumble.

Bucky felt the shockwave roll over him, the breath squeezed from his lungs, and he dropped to his knees as something metal shot over his head. A few feet away, Steve was sheltering behind his shield and across from where the jet was parked, T’Challa stood, watching with a stony expression as it burned. Bucky exhaled slowly.

Layal was gone. The jet was toast. Zemo could be halfway to anywhere, intent on turning his friend into a weapon so hard to detect she’d be unstoppable. Feeling despair roll over him, he dropped and rolled, sitting in the dust with his hands at his sides. For the first time since regaining himself, he wished he were back in the ice.


	16. Chapter 16

Layal opened her eyes cautiously. They no longer burned and she could make out the pattern on the floor in front of her nose. She was on a plane, or at least something similar. She let her shadow stretch out, keeping her breathing even.

“Good, you are awake.” Zemo’s voice came from above and she clamped her mouth shut. “I hope your eyes are better. I apologise for taking you into the sun but there was no choice. We needed to wait until our contact could meet with us.”

“My eyes are better.” Experience had taught her that staying silent only brought more trouble, especially when she was dealing with a handler. She had a sinking feeling that the gaps in her memory were proof that Zemo had assigned himself just such a role. Her shadow whipped close, hiding her face.

“We should be safe for now.” Zemo sounded pleased but she refused to look up. There was something about looking at him... the memory slid away and she clenched her fists. How did Bucky cope with such fractured thoughts? “Your captors have been eliminated and we should have no pursuers for some time.”

“Captors?” She pressed her fists to her eyes, determined to keep them shut.

“The people who removed you from your home.” Zemo said mildly.

“My friends.”

“Your kidnappers.” He corrected.

“Are you taking me home?”

“I am taking you somewhere safe.” There was a muffled sound. “Where you can recover from your exposure.”

“What happened to my friends?” If he was a genuine handler he wouldn’t answer the question but Zemo apparently didn’t know the rules.

“They are dead. I’m sorry.”

Layal darkened her shadow, thickening it until it blocked out the sound of the jet. Tucking her knees up to her chin, she thought of Bucky’s hand in hers and the way he smiled as he listened to her stumble through a simple book. Tears sprang to her eyes as her breath caught, the cool liquid turning to ice on her cheeks.

  


By the time a plane arrived to collect them Bucky had run through every moment of the entire mine excursion a dozen times. It must have been the closing of the refrigeration unit that had triggered the bomb. He joined Steve and T’Challa looking for survivors but the main shaft had collapsed completely and there was no way to get down more than ten feet. More blood on his hands, he thought, retreating to the meagre shade offered by a few trees at the side of the clearing.

He’d pulled his comms unit off, needing to empty his head of as many voices as he could, and tucked the earplugs into a pocket so he could concentrate on feeling as terrible as humanly possible.

“This was another step in Zemo’s plan.” T’Challa approached, his eyes on the horizon. Their transport would be arriving soon. “You should not blame yourself for events that he alone has put in motion.”

“I’m not real good at playing catch up.” Bucky admitted.

“No.” The king didn’t sound surprised. “It is not the best position. But you are here, which is closer to your friend than what staying with Shuri would have accomplished. And when we have transport, we will be in a better position to give chase.”

“Thanks.” He replied grudgingly.

“For a long time, you were at the mercy of other men’s agendas. Now you have the opportunity to do something for yourself. Do not mourn her until you know for sure that you have done all you can.” T’Challa stretched a hand out. “Come. Our plane is approaching.”

Bucky gripped the other man’s hand and got to his feet, feeling slightly more human and slightly less pessimistic. T’Challa was right, he was doing no one any favours by collapsing into a heap just because their quarry had outsmarted them for about the seventh time. It was turning into a bad habit but any habit could be broken with enough willpower.

  


Layal supposed she slept, although she wasn’t sure. The light had changed in the plane and she’d moved with the shadows, careful to keep her distance and her eyes closed. Her grief had lodged in her throat, threatening to choke her, and she had been trying to concentrate on keeping her breathing even so that she wouldn’t cry.

“I have something for you.” Zemo said.

“No, thank you.” She kept her voice level, knowing that he couldn’t see her face.

“It will help.” There was a rustle as something light landed next to her. She reached out with her shadow to feel the texture, deciding it was a jacket of some kind. “It will keep the sun from you.”

“The sun is away from me.”

“We will be landing soon. The sun will be almost directly overhead.” Sure enough, the floor of the plane was tilting slightly as it banked. “If you wear this, it will protect you.”

“My eyes need protection more. I have these.” Keeping eyes closed, she pulled her shadow back so that he could see her reach into her pocket. Slowly, she pulled out the sunglasses that Shuri had given her. “These adjust so that I can still see.” She held them out and they were taken from her. Zemo inspected them and she held her breath; they had tiny metal points at the ends that tucked behind her ears and she hoped he wouldn’t notice. “If I can wear them, I can stay in the sun longer.”

“Good.” They reappeared in her hand and she clasped them carefully, her pulse quickening. “Put them on when we land. Your eyes need to recover.”

  


“Tin man, you need to keep your comms on.” Shuri scolded him as he pressed the comms back to his neck. “How else am I supposed to reassure you that we will find her?”

“I’m sorry. I just needed to mope for a minute.” He flushed at Steve laughing at him and dropped into his seat aboard the jet.

“Well, I hope you’re over it and ready to get on with things.”

“What have you got, Shuri?” Steve asked, watching as the ground dropped away from beneath them.

“Layal has put her sunglasses on.”

“Are you sure it’s her?” Bucky asked, his voice low. It would be just their luck that they spent the next few hours running down a goat herder who randomly found them on the side of the road.

“The body temperature of the wearer is much lower than a regular person.” Shuri sounded disapproving. “Really, Sergeant Barnes, have some faith in your doctor!”

“Where are we going, sister?” T’Challa interrupted.

“Morocco. I’m sending the coordinates to you now.”


	17. Chapter 17

“You okay?” Steve asked quietly. Bucky nodded. Shuri’s news had boosted his mood immeasurably and the tight feeling in his chest had loosened slightly. “We’re gonna find her, Buck.”

“I know.” He managed to inject enough sincerity into his words that Steve nodded but he couldn’t shake the feeling that they’d be too late. Whatever Zemo had planned, he wasn’t going to wait long to act. Steve gave him a shrewd look.

“This plan has been at least two years in the making.” He said, guessing exactly where his thoughts were going. Bucky pulled a face. “He’s not going to rush it now.”

“I know.” He picked at a thread on his pants.

“But you don’t believe?”

Bucky didn’t reply, not sure how to word it. The fact was, T’Challa and Steve were racing to prevent an immensely powerful weapon from being created, or if they were too late to stop that, from being deployed. Bucky was tagging along because he was useful in a fight and because he couldn’t just leave Layal to her fate. There was a deeper part of him though, that was already pointing out that he would never get a happy ending and chasing one would end in disaster. He had too much blood on his hands to get to start over.

  


They landed a few miles from a tiny village on the west coast of Morocco. The sunglasses were transmitting to Shuri from a spot several miles in the opposite direction, which seemed to be a secure compound of some kind. As they studied the satellite images and the footage taken from their own craft, the signal dropped out.

“She’s taken them off.” Shuri said quickly. “That’s all.”

“She’s given us a location.” Steve added. “She’s leading us.”

“So she hasn’t turned supersoldier yet.” Bucky said, trying to squash the hope that flared in his chest.

“We have to hope that is the case.” T’Challa replied, turning sympathetic eyes towards him.

“How do we approach this?” Steve asked. Bucky felt a flash of deja vu; they were suddenly in Nazi-occupied Poland again. His breath caught and he looked away, surveying the terrain.

“The probes we launched from the plane on the way in have scanned the exterior walls.” T’Challa said. “Shuri?”

“There is a solar array on the mountain above the complex but they are still drawing a substantial amount of electricity. The fences do not appear to be reinforced with extra security but there are more than three dozen people inside.”

“Any cold spots?” Steve glanced at Bucky.

“Not on the top two floors but the way the main building has been constructed is strange. It’s possible there is a subterranean level. I’ll let you know. In the meantime, there’s a vehicle approaching from the village. If you can intercept it, you may be able to smuggle yourselves in.”

“We were unable to win on opposite sides of the battlefield.” T’Challa said. “But on the same side...” He flashed a smile at the two Americans and took off, managing a fairly decent head start in the time it took the two supersoldiers to share a grin.

Bucky settled into a rhythm quickly, gaining on the king in front of him. Judging from the pursuit back in Romania, T’Challa was holding back until they caught up, and the thought was oddly comforting. He hadn’t really considered T’Challa an ally up until today, trying to keep some distance between the man who held Bucky’s future in his hands, but Bucky was starting to realise that, whether or not the Winter Soldier could be coaxed out of his brain for good, he owed T’Challa a huge debt just for trusting him to back him up on this mission.

The thought cheered him up and he put a burst of speed on just as a vehicle approached, rattling along the dusty road from the west. Battered, it was missing a door and the canvas covering the back was tattered and patched with tape. T’Challa never slowed down, diving into the cab as he came alongside. Bucky veered left, using a small rise to get enough height to leap onto the cab roof just as the driver was ejected onto the road. Behind him, Steve landed neatly on the cab roof and rolled off the other side, flipping into the cab feet first. The truck skewed sideways, almost knocking Bucky off balance, and he gritted his teeth. Steve had always been an acrobat but at least Bucky didn’t have to worry about him breaking any bones these days.

The truck began to slow down and came to a halt. The passenger was dumped onto the road and Bucky leapt down onto the ground, grabbing him by the neck and lifting him up against the truck. By the time Steve scrambled out, the man was three inches off the ground and begging for help.

“What’s in the back?” Steve asked. Bucky squeezed slightly harder, more than happy to play the part of silent menace. The man burbled something in French.

“Medical supplies.” Bucky muttered, suddenly relaxing his grip. He didn’t want to kill the man but the sudden burst of rage had to go somewhere. He closed his eyes and put his fist through the side of the cab. The man took it as a direct threat and there was a sudden sharp smell in the air.

“Go and get your friend.” Steve dredged up the little French he could remember from the war. “Walk home.”

The man nodded, staring at Bucky with wide eyes and clutching his damp pants tighter around himself. Shuffling off, he began to run in the opposite direction. Bucky watched him go, then strode around to the back of the truck and opened the door.

White cases were strapped neatly to the floor, looking out of place in the dusty truck bed. He climbed in to check the logo.

“These are from Switzerland.” He called, looking for any documentation.

“They’ll be getting ready to start the process.” T’Challa said, appearing behind Steve. He’d found a ratty old shirt in the cab of the truck and was pulling it on over his suit with a grimace. “You two get in.”

“Just like old times.” Steve clambered up next to Bucky, who found somewhere stable to sit.

“Pretty sure you left us in the truck and just threw motorcycles at the enemy.” He remarked. T’Challa glanced at Steve, who shrugged. Shaking his head, the king disappeared and a moment later the truck lurched as he found first gear.

Bucky waited until the truck was rolling properly, then opened the nearest case. It was full of syringes. Suppressing a shudder, he opened the next one. It was full of neat rows of vials, safely packed in rows of foam. Slamming it shut, he flexed his metal hand.

“Zemo needs to be held accountable.” Steve reminded him.

“I know.” But there were a dozen men between them and him, most likely, and Shuri still hadn’t given them any more intel on the building. Frustration bubbled up into impatience and he exhaled slowly, knowing it wasn’t inaction that was making him so edgy. It was fear.

“She’ll be okay.” Steve didn’t sound quite so confident.

“I know.” He hated the doubt in his voice.

The truck juddered to a halt and there were shouts from outside. T’Challa replied in rapid French, complaining about the trip. There were more shouts and a laugh, followed by a muffled thud. A moment later the truck canopy was lifted and a limp figure tossed into the back.

“I hope you are ready.” T’Challa regarded them gravely. “I do not think they will wait for us to find them.”

“Do you want to take anyone else home with you?” Bucky asked, his voice cold enough to earn a concerned glance from Steve.

“Everyone will be left for the local authorities to deal with, with the exception of our escaped prisoner and your friend.” T’Challa replied just as coldly. Bucky nodded, standing up and stepping over the unconscious sentry.

“Yes sir.” It almost felt good, being able to smile as he spoke. Orders from a king, on the verge of going into a fight, was very definitely not something he was used to - but it was good to be able to fight as himself rather than as an empty killing machine. Leaving bodies behind to moan about their headaches was actually something he was looking forward to. Score another point to the recovering headcase, he thought grimly.

Next to him, Steve nodded and the three men turned to the garage door behind them just as it burst open.


	18. Chapter 18

“Seriously?” Steve stared at him incredulously and Bucky shrugged. While T’Challa had gone high, Steve had barrelled straight through the first wave of guards, leaving Bucky to skirt the action and trap more than half of the sentries in the kitchen. The walk-in refrigeration unit was set to a balmy 38 degrees and after securing the door by folding a bar stool through the handles, he’d thoughtfully ripped open a vent and turned the power off so they wouldn’t suffocate or freeze too badly. Steve actually looked disappointed that half the players had been taken off the board but Bucky didn’t spare him more than a quick grin and a shrug; Layal was somewhere in the building and he had to find her.

“If you are finished introducing yourselves,” Shuri’s voice burst into his head. “You need to get into the sub-levels of the building.”

“Levels, plural?” Steve asked.

“There are six, from what I can tell. It’s much bigger than it appeared from the sky.” Shuri complained. “The probes that my brother released when he arrived has been mapping the area. You should be able to descend from the east corner. There’s a lift.”

“How many are downstairs?” T’Challa asked, sounding breathless. He had headed straight upstairs, preferring to work his way down and presumably give the more cowardly a chance to split, Bucky guessed. As far as they were from the town, it would be at least forty-five minutes before reinforcements arrived, assuming Zemo had any.

Reminding himself not to underestimate the man, he followed Steve through the house. It seemed like a typical bolt hole, with sparse but expensive furnishings. Knowing what he knew about Zemo’s history, he wondered if it had been acquired after Sokovia or if he’d borrowed it from one of his prospective clients. If it was the latter, the owner was going to be disappointed. He might have taken care not to kill any of the mercenaries they’d encountered so far but damned if he was going to stop to make sure the furniture wasn’t scuffed.

  


Layal blinked slowly, her head pounding. Zemo had given her something but she couldn’t remember what it was. Her shadow was spinning, as disoriented as she was, and she went to rub her eyes only to find her hands were shackled.

The dizziness dropped away slightly and she looked around. She was in a chair so similar to the Winter Soldier’s that she squeezed her eyes shut, listening for the heavy storm doors. But she wasn’t back in Siberia, was she? Her shadow said no; there was too much heat in the air.

Zemo was standing at the edge of a circle of spotlights and her heart sank. There were at least fourteen in front of her, aimed to create a wall of light around her. She bit her lip, trying not to make a sound.

“So they’re not dead.” Zemo’s lips thinned in disappointment. Layal stared at the lights and tried to keep her expression blank. Who wasn’t dead? Her friends? Bucky? She gripped the chair, feeling her shade creep down the inside of her sleeves. Zemo had set spotlights up at regular intervals around the room but had yet to turn any of them on.

“Pull back.” Zemo was talking into a headset. “Fall back to the bunker and suit up.”

“What are you doing?” Layal asked. Zemo started, looking at her in surprise. She dropped her gaze quickly, instinctively not looking directly at him.

“Learning to ask questions?” He asked mildly. “Are they teaching you to be human, after so long in your tank?” She flushed. He was right, of course. She had had no idea about anything before she’d been freed from the base. Now, everything she knew had come from Fadyazi and Shuri, who had introduced her to books and stories, and from Bucky, who didn’t seem to mind answering her questions about everything she didn’t understand. “What I am doing, Shadow, is performing one final test before we begin.”

“Test?” She pulled against the wrist restraints but they were solid. She shook her head, wishing she could think more clearly. “What did you give me?”

“A sedative. Nothing dangerous.” He sounded reassuring, almost friendly, which put her on edge even more than the lights. She bit her lip hard, trying to sharpen up. She’d seen the Winter Soldier under the influence of drugs and knew how much it slowed him down. She didn’t have strength to begin with but Zemo looked so smug that she was desperate to clear her head. Her shadow began to weave behind her, finding only leather and steel.

Zemo turned his back on her, listening to an earpiece. Crossing behind the lights, he opened a steel case and fitted a mask to his face, checking that it was airtight. Layal stopped fidgeting and went still, her eyes widening.

He was going to turn the lights on.

  


“This place is deserted.” Steve let the door drift open, the scowl on his face mirrored on Bucky’s. Aside from the men they’d dealt with upstairs, they hadn’t seen anyone at all. T’Challa had gone back upstairs and Shuri was bringing their jet closer for a quick escape, leaving Steve and Bucky to sweep the lower floors.

“Was this another red herring?” Bucky asked, kicking another door open. “What if she’s not here?”

“We’ve still got another floor to go.” Steve tried to sound reassuring but Bucky had a point. Zemo had been leading them from the beginning, his plans so far ahead of them that they’d done nothing but traipse along behind. Shaking his head, Bucky strode into the room and reappeared a moment later.

“Empty.”

“Downstairs.” Steve opened the last door but it opened to what appeared to be a server room, lined with data racks and heavy ropes of electrical cable. Together they turned to the staircase.

There was no door; the stairs opened onto a long, low-ceilinged room. There were spotlights arranged in a large circle around a chair. Across the far side, Zemo was standing against the wall, wearing a mask and holding a tank. In the chair-

Layal looked up at them, her eyes black and desperate.

“Run!” She breathed. “Go!”

Every single light came on.


	19. Chapter 19

It was pressure first. The light pressed in on all sides, squeezing Layal’s shadow down into nothing and pushing the air from her lungs. She hunched instinctively but the chair left little room for movement and it seemed like only moments before the pain arrived. Every exposed inch of skin began to burn, feeling like it had been flayed, the pain burning and growing. It was her eyes though, that dragged the scream from her. So much light at once and she couldn’t block it out, her shadow reduced to a tiny fragment trapped at the small of her back.

_Bucky and Steve_ , she thought desperately, trying to hold her shadow still. _Bucky and Steve_...

She couldn’t hold them in her mind and her shadow at her back at the same time. Completely blind and lost in the agony, she let both go and her shadow surged up against the light, desperate to protect herself.

  


“Stop!” Shuri’s voice cut through T’Challa’s head so sharply he dropped to the floor, expecting something to explode.

“What?”

“Layal.”

“Where?”

“The probe that followed the Americans showed a sharp drop in temperature and then it stopped transmitting.”

“What else?” That wouldn’t have been enough for the urgency in Shuri’s voice; both men had already proven they could take care of themselves.

“The other probe is showing the oxygen levels are dropping. Break a window.”

He was on a landing between floors; heading up, he burst through the first door he found, into what appeared to be a study. Large windows lined one wall and he hit the first one, expecting it to shatter.

The window bowed slightly but didn’t break. T’Challa stared at it, retracting his mask.

“The house is sealed.” He spoke quietly. “How quickly is the oxygen dropping?”

“Put your mask back on!” Shuri admonished.

“Shuri!” He obeyed slowly, trying to slow his breathing.

“The probe is at the staircase below the floor you are on.” Her voice seemed very calm all of a sudden. “It has registered a slight drop in temperature but oxygen seems to be holding at 19.6%.”

“Are you able to reboot the first probe?” T’Challa straightened, standing very still. The more he moved, the more oxygen he’d need. Slowly, he made his way around the desk and sank into the chair. His mask protected him against airborne particles but he couldn’t remember what safeguards had been built into it to protect against being suffocated to death.

“No. I’m scanning the building from the jet.”

“Preliminary results?”

“You are on the second floor, sitting at a desk. That’s a good decision. Stay there while I find the others.”

T’Challa concentrated on slowing his breathing, counting to himself. The suit protected him from the cold but he realised he could see his exhalations. His pulse quickened slightly.

“Shuri.”

“I know. The Dora Milaje are on the way.” She paused. “There are still the same number of people in the building, all alive.”

“No one has died?” He exhaled sharply. “How?”

“Thermal imaging shows that the temperature is steady at three degrees centigrade in the upper levels.”

“And the oxygen levels are safe?”

“In the upper levels, yes.”

“The Americans are in the lower levels.”

“I know. I’m still trying to pinpoint their location.” Shuri sounded perplexed.

“Can I move?”

“I do not think that would be a good idea.”

“The oxygen levels are reasonable.”

“Yes.”

“Then I’m finding the others.” He got up slowly, ignoring his sister’s protestations. Emerging into the hall, he was met with a probe, hovering a few inches in front of his face.

“You’re going to stop me with that?” He asked mildly.

“I really wish I’d included a stun grenade.” She sounded put out. “Stay close to the probe so I can monitor your surroundings. Another one percent drop and you’ll start to feel the effects of oxygen deprivation.”

The temperature dropped as he descended the stairs and by the time he reached the ground floor his suit had rimed with ice crystals but he was still comfortable enough inside it.

“The temperature has stabilised.” Shuri told him. “Oxygen too, although it’s a little low.”

“Where is everyone?”

“Most of Zemo’s men are in a kitchen. You don’t need to worry about them, they’re currently warmer than you are thanks to Sergeant Barnes. The rest of them are in what appears to be a panic room. I’m overriding the electrical system so they’ll be unable to open the door.”

“Where are the Dora Milaje?”

“On their way. They reduced their speed when you didn’t die.”

“Is that on their faith or on yours, sister?” T’Challa grinned beneath his mask. Half the time Shuri seemed to resent that he had an army of warriors at his disposal but he knew that she would defend him just as furiously as they would.

“You don’t need them yet.” She brushed aside his teasing. “They are making sure the road stays empty and the men you sent running make it safely home.”

They were making sure that no word of their presence would leak out. T’Challa nodded, moving carefully down the stairs. The temperature seemed to have stabilised just below freezing. Following the probe, he hesitated at the second subfloor level. The lights went out as Shuri shut down the system and he waited until they came back up, listening.

“Have you found them?” He asked quietly.

“There are two men in a cupboard between floors.” She replied. “There are two more in the main room at the bottom of the stairs. One of them has a lower body temperature than the other.”

“Cupboard first.” He replied, moving faster.

It was a server room and it contained two nonplussed supersoldiers. Steve had all but thrown Bucky through the closed door and they were having a very quiet, very heated argument. When T’Challa opened the door they both spun, each angling to protect the other in the small space, and he bit back a smile.

“The house has been sealed.” He told them. “There are two people downstairs.”

“Layal’s in a chair.” Steve replied.

“Whatever they have planned, it must be happening now.” He stepped back to allow them out of the room and the three of them moved towards the stairs, now lit by soft emergency lighting. They spread out across the top of the wide staircase, each aware of the others. 

“That wasn’t there earlier.” Steve said flatly, staring at the heavy blast door that had dropped after they’d bolted from downstairs.

“Shuri?”

“It’s not electronic.” Came the disgruntled reply. “It must have been wound closed manually. I can’t get through it.”

“Can you see what’s happening on the other side?” T’Challa asked.

“No.”

“Is there another way down?” Steve asked.

“I’m looking.” She sounded irritable.

“We could really do with Doctor Banner right now.” Steve sighed. Bucky shot him a look and turned, bounding back up the stairs. The two remaining men exchanged a long look, then turned to follow.

  


Bucky’s fingers were going numb. All he’d wanted for hours was to feel cold, he thought. He was most definitely not in the mood for fate to taunt him but at least it meant he could put his fist through the server room wall with a bare minimum of discomfort.

The cables were tied together in huge bundles, disappearing into vents. If downstairs was the main centre of the house then it made sense that some of the wiring would point him in the right direction.

Scowling against the breath misting in front of him, he tore a large chunk of the wall away, tossing it behind him.

They’d been so close. She’d been less than twenty feet away and she’d told them to run. And Steve had listened, dragging Bucky up the stairs- He couldn’t blame his friend for that though. Layal might insist that her first instinct would be to protect but Steve’s was definitely to save. He absolutely blamed Steve for the lump forming above his hairline though. He’d thrown him right through the door as they were moving up the stairs, in spite of it being solid timber.

“Shuri, is that viable?” Steve asked, watching from the doorway.

“No.” She replied softly. Bucky stopped ripping the wall apart and dropped his head, flexing his fingers. He knew it wasn’t going to work but it was giving him the chance to destroy something. “But if you make the hole slightly bigger I can send the probe down.”

He obliged, bits of plaster littering the floor, until Shuri sent the probe bobbing into the gap. It spun once and dropped out of sight.

“The jet has been doing a scan of the outbuildings.” T’Challa said from somewhere behind him. “There are a number of heavy trucks in a shed to the east, far more than accounts for the number of men here.”

“You think it’s their escape plan?” Steve asked.

“I’m going to find out.”

Steve glanced at Bucky, indecision on his face.

“Go.” Bucky nodded.

“Do I need to tell you?” Steve asked. Bucky shook his head, not trusting his voice. Something akin to panic had set in right below his Adam’s apple. Frowning at the uncharacteristically quiet response, Steve followed T’Challa out into the hall, their footsteps dying away quickly.

Alone and his breath misting in front of him, Bucky slumped against the wall. He was pinging between desolation and edgy, jittery rage and he knew he needed to calm down. The cold was helping, strangely, and he exhaled slowly, watching the vapour curl out in front of him. Closing his eyes, he listened to his breathing and waited for his pulse to slow down. He could feel each second draw out and his brain wouldn’t stop turning, imagining what was happening downstairs.

Opening his eyes, he straightened. It wasn’t working, he realised. Time to try a different tactic: embrace the rage, consequences be damned.

  


Getting out of the house proved to be a challenge, and in the end Shuri blew a top-floor wall out from the jet before landing it a safe distance away. The two men climbed out onto the roof with little difficulty and crossed the empty compound within minutes.

“If the sublevel is the operating theatre and it’s sealed off,” Steve mused, watching as T’Challa pulled a side door of its hinges, “And the rest of the house was built to be airtight...” He looked back at the building.

“Zemo will be ensuring that there will be no witnesses left when he is done here.” T’Challa finished the thought.

“So there must be another way of getting to here from the house, without breaking the seal.” Steve stepped in behind the king, registering the drop in temperature immediately. He wasn’t sure if it was because the sun outside was now directly overhead or if there was an air conditioning unit hidden somewhere - or if Layal’s influence had managed to reach this far.

There were three rows of vehicles parked neatly along the length of the shed, totalling thirty trucks, but only two of them had fully tinted windows and what looked to be some pretty serious reinforcement.

The two men spread out, checking the walls and floors for any discrepancies.

“There’s nothing here.” Steve scowled, frustrated.

T’Challa stood in the middle of the building, turning slowly. Aware that he was concentrating, Steve tried to breathe quietly, listening.

“There.” The king moved, cutting through the trucks and examining a shelf against the back wall. It didn’t appear to contain anything important but when he pushed a tin aside, it didn’t move. The two men exchanged looks and moved in for a closer look.

Everything on the shelf was bolted down and the shelf itself was welded to the wall. Between the two of them, they manhandled it to the point where the welds gave out, dragging the entire unit away from the wall with a metallic shriek.

“Secret door.” Steve’s expression twisted into a grimace; Tony would have been loving this. Putting that thought to one side, he followed the king down into the dark.

  


Bucky had attacked the blast door from the side. It refused to budge but the surrounding wall wasn’t quite so strong and he broke into a sweat in the chilly space, groaning with the effort of peeling back a reinforced steel plate. His own hand was numb and useless but his metal one gripped the edge of the plate with as much determination as he could muster; strong enough to warp the edge of the smooth surface.

With a roar, he fed everything into the effort: rage, fear, worry, all of it, into a wrenching movement that strained every muscle he had. The plate started to fold back and he doubled down, his groan turning into a roar. Tendons standing out, he gritted his teeth and fed more effort into the arm - only to hear a grinding crack.

His hand fell from the edge, useless, and the plate began to swing back. Cursing, he swung around, jamming his elbow into the shrinking gap and leaning into it.

The plate gave in, a four foot section of wall suddenly coming apart, and Bucky fell back with it, unable to break his fall. He landed on his face, dimly registering pain through his left shoulder. He couldn’t feel any feedback from his hand, and pushed himself up awkwardly with his right arm.

The gap had exposed the gear mechanism of the heavy manual door and Bucky was able to kick his way past it, to the drywall on the other side. Why bother reinforcing the inside of a secure basement when the outside should be enough? The oversight brought a cold smile to Bucky’s face. Giving the wall a hefty kick, he went straight through and fell into the opening beyond.


	20. Chapter 20

The hole he’d opened was to the left of the staircase and he dropped twelve feet, instinctively rolling as he hit the floor.

The emergency lighting was on, tinting the room a deep blue. He surged to his feet, expecting to be surrounded by angry soldiers but the room was quiet. Zemo had disappeared somewhere - probably hiding in another bunker, Bucky thought sourly. He scanned the room but there was no sign of movement, so he crossed the floor to the large chair in the centre.

Layal was slumped forward, her shadow a loose pool around her feet. It wasn’t moving and Bucky brushed his fingers over it. It didn’t feel any colder than the rest of the room and he bit his lip, daring to look up.

Her eyes were closed but there were grey streaks down her cheeks. It wasn’t her face that gave him a jolt though, it was the row of syringes buried in her neck.

Heart sinking, he pushed her loose hair back behind her ear, looking for any sign that she was alive.

“Layal?” He whispered.

She twitched a frown, her breath suddenly misting in front of him.

“Sergeant Barnes.” Shuri’s voice almost gave him a heart attack and he jerked back, glaring at the probe hovering six inches away from his face.

“What.” He ground out.

“I can’t get a reading on her.”

“She’s been injected with something. Can you see?”

“No, the probe only gives me a 3D representation of the room. I can only see what Layal can see, infra-red and ultraviolet.”

“Can you make sure there are no symbols hidden in here?” He asked. The probe zipped away out of his reach and he turned back to Layal, who was starting to breathe a little more steadily.

“You have to wake up.” Bucky whispered, touching almost-numb fingers to her neck. A pulse fluttered against them and he felt the pressure in his chest suddenly ease. “I have to tell you something.” 

“Burns.” She murmured, her eyes still closed. Her fingers flexed, gripping the arms of the chair, and Bucky had a flashback of himself in the chair and the pain that came with it.

“I know.” He ran a finger across the back of her hand, not daring to squeeze her fingers, and her breath hitched. “Just keep your eyes closed. I’m going to get you out of here.”

“Burns.” She couldn’t move, the needles holding her in place, so he set about dismantling the apparatus, trying not to jostle them. He slid each one out carefully, grunting at Shuri’s request to keep one so they could figure out what was in it. He tucked two of them into his jacket for good measure, freed the last one from Layal, and wrenched the entire contraption right off the chair.

She slumped forward, her head resting on one arm and her breathing heavy.

“Please tell me you’re ready to go home.” He leaned forward, looking for the catch holding the restraints in place.

“Ya khochu poyti domoy.” She whispered. [I want to go home]

“Ya znayu.” He replied in kind, letting his head rest against hers for a moment. “I know. Keep your eyes closed.”

Her shadow twitched and he smiled in relief, hoping it was a sign that she was waking up. With his arm out of commission, he wasn’t sure if he would be able to carry her.

“Shuri, where are the others?” He asked.

“I don’t know.” She replied. “They went into the garage and disappeared. I expect they’ll be joining you shortly.”

Releasing the arm restraints, he dropped to his knees to work on the shackles around her ankles. Her shadow pulled away from him before creeping forward cautiously. He resisted the urge to reach for it, concentrating on breaking the binds holding her in place.

“Buck!” Steve’s voice reached him just as he freed her and he stood up, looping his arm around her. “Is she...?”

“Zemo started.” He jerked a chin in the direction of the needle array. “I don’t know.”

“Get her to the jet.” T’Challa ordered. “We need to find Zemo.”

“No.” The voice echoed around the chamber, freezing all three men in place.

“It’s over, Zemo.” Steve said loudly, trying to see where the sound had come from. “You failed.”

“Did I?”

A light came on above, spotlighting the chair and the two figures standing next to it. Layal flinched, her shadow surging up and wrapping her in such a black cloak that Bucky couldn’t see his own arm around her shoulder. He could feel her trembling though, the effort wearing her down. He tightened his grip and dragged her down off the dais, out of the light. As soon as they were out of the tight circle of light her shadow dropped against his skin, ebbing away to reveal that her head had dropped. She swayed, barely standing on her own.

“Could she do that before?” Steve asked. Bucky shook his head. He’d felt the darkness snake over his arm, a solid weight that bore no resemblance to the light touch he’d felt back in Wakanda.

“You are not taking her.” T’Challa said.

“I know.” Zemo sounded disappointed. “So much planning went into this operation but I underestimated your tenacity, King T’Challa.”

“That was your mistake.” The king told him, still searching for the man speaking. The probe was doing a slow lap of the room but Shuri was silent.

“That was something I was warned about, so I had a contingency plan.” Zemo sounded entirely too calm and Bucky exchanged a look with Steve, shifting his weight. Steve’s gaze dropped and he took in Bucky’s useless arm dangling at his side. He crossed the room, offering to take some of Layal’s weight. Bucky nodded his thanks.

“We need to cover her eyes.” He murmured. Steve nodded, rummaging in one of the utility pockets attached to his belt and unrolling a thin bandage. He carefully wound it around her head while Bucky apologised to her but she barely registered what was going on. It wasn’t a good sign.

“How did you get in here?” Steve asked quietly.

“I fell. You?”

“Secret tunnel.”

“I like your method better.” Bucky replied. 

“What contingency?” T’Challa was asking.

“Having the Shadow at my command would have been a useful and lucrative asset.” Zemo said. “But I knew that involving Captain America was risky. If this was the only operation, it would be a failure. So there was a second operation in motion, which would succeed if the first was to fail.”

“And what was that?”

“Something I have already succeeded at once.” Zemo replied. “The death of the king of Wakanda.”


	21. Chapter 21

It was dark and something was pressing on him from everywhere. Trying to stay calm, he flexed his fingers, relieved to feel pins and needles. He couldn’t move his legs but he could feel them, which he took as a good sign.

His shoulder hurt though, pain lancing through him with every breath. Were his ribs broken? No, it was the remains of his metal arm, shattered beyond repair as six floors worth of house came down around them.

He caught his breath, trying to concentrate. T’Challa had been just ahead of them as the ceiling had rippled, and Steve, carrying Layal, had been to his left.

“ _Layal_.” He whispered, not sure if it disturbing the air around him was a good idea.

“Bucky?” Steve’s voice sounded muffled but close and there was a scrabbling, sliding noise before a hand wrapped around his ankle.

“Steve? Where’s Layal?”

“I don’t know.”

“Shuri?” Bucky found he could move enough to twist onto his back. “Can you hear us?”

“I can hear you.” The relief in her voice mirrored his own and he took a shuddering breath, realising the cold had abated and it was growing warmer.

“Where’s T’Challa?”

“Not far.” The king’s voice echoed in his comms, strained but strong, and Bucky closed his eyes, too relieved to even try and figure out what the hell was going on. Something cold brushed along his spine and he shuddered, not sure if it was his imagination.

“The Dora are on their way.” Shuri sounded breathless. “But it’s going to take time to dig you all out.”

“Where’s Layal gone?” Steve asked. Bucky bit his lip, not wanting to hear the answer. Everyone capable of speaking had done so, reassuring each other while an entire house was pressing down on them. If she hadn’t spoken, it was because she couldn’t. “I had her when the roof came down, then it was cold, then she was gone.” Steve sounded frustrated but not frantic. Bucky shifted slightly, trying to convince himself that the shiver that gone through him was more to do with an escaping Shadow and not his own fear.

“Layal’s gone.” Shuri replied. “There’s no sign of her.”

One tiny spark of reason pointed out that she had no comms but there was a sudden iciness in Bucky’s chest as his traitorous brain ignored logic in favour of imagining her broken and dying a few feet away.

“You need to hurry.” He managed, hearing the strain in his voice. “Tell them to hurry.”

“Are you hurt?” Steve demanded. Bucky didn’t reply; if they thought they were racing against the clock so much the better. In the meantime, he guessed he had at least an hour alone in his head, plenty of time to convince himself all of his worst nightmares were playing out in the tiny bubble he was trapped in. With nothing else to do but think, he resolutely closed his eyes and tried some of the breathing exercises the therapist had suggested. His brain wouldn’t cooperate though, stubbornly trying to calculate how many tonnes were pressing down on them and how deep the Dora would have to dig to find them. When he tried to force himself to think of something else, he found himself counting the ways this was his fault.

Sighing, he lifted his head slightly and let it fall back against the floor, the sound echoing around his tiny cocoon. Zemo had dosed her but he’d done it hurriedly, pushed because they’d arrived to stop him. As much as she had resisted complying in Siberia, he doubted she’d have had much chance between the strength of the spotlights and the superior drugs he’d been able to steal from Wakanda.

Where Zemo was now was another issue. How had he managed to stay one step ahead of them for so long? And would he be returning to make sure he’d succeeded - again - with his secondary mission? T’Challa had replied readily enough but if Zemo managed to gain access to the jet he’d be able to hear their communications and know that the king still breathed.

His chest ached and his ruined arm sent uncomfortable jolts through his nervous system. So much for keeping his body whole while his mind was repaired. He scowled. When he had been traipsing around Europe with Captain America and the rest of the Howling Commandos he’d been able to snatch sleep on a whim but since becoming a supersoldier himself he didn’t need sleep as much. He’d happily give the remainder of his left arm for a dreamless reprieve while they waited...

“Zemo has been contained.” Shuri reported.

“The Dora?” Steve asked.

“Me. I might be a thousand miles away but I’m still working harder than you boys.” She laughed and Bucky felt a reluctant grin tug at his lips. From somewhere near his foot he could hear Steve chuckling as well, the sound lifting his spirits somewhat. “He thought to use the jet to make his escape. He is stuck inside and will be until I decide to let him out.”

“What about the manual emergency exit?” Steve asked.

“If he were conscious, that might be a consideration.” She replied darkly. “He’s not the only one who can manipulate oxygen levels in confined spaces.”

“You can keep him unconscious?” Steve asked. Bucky frowned; Steve taking charge was nothing unusual but there was a king only a few feet away who should be asking the questions.

“I can.” Shuri’s voice was clipped. “But I can’t get an answer from my brother and if Zemo has taken him from me…”

“What do you mean, you can’t get an answer?” Bucky twisted but couldn’t see anything in the almost-pitch darkness. “He spoke to us before.”

“And now he does not.” Shuri snapped. “I’m working on it but if that Sokovian has cost me more of my family we will be spared a trial.”

The comms snapped shut with a pop that echoed around Bucky’s head and he winced. Shuri was a brilliant scientist and he owed her more than he could explain but she was still a teenager and she was trying to help them from so far away. He couldn’t imagine how frustrated she must be so he kept his thoughts to himself.

His foot was squeezed tightly and released, Steve sending a silent message that he was nearby. Comforted enough to let out the breath he was holding, Bucky let his eyes close, hoping for a reprieve while they awaited rescue.

Steve jerked awake, sure he’d heard something. Sure enough, there was a grinding noise of something above him and the light changed. Realising there was light at all and marvelling slightly at the fact that he’d managed to sleep, he squeezed Bucky’s ankle reassuringly, searching for the source of the lightening.

Several minutes later, he felt laughter bubble up as daylight hit his face. Fadyazi glared down at him disapprovingly.

“Are you hysterical?” She asked suspiciously.

“No ma’am.” He blinked, smoothing his grin into a more serious expression. “Just relieved to see you.”

“Is Sergeant Barnes near you?”

“He’s a few feet away.” Steve started to wriggle, managing to free one arm. Fadyazi gripped his hand and heaved and he slithered free, kicking dust and rubble aside.

“And where is Layal?”

“We don’t know.” Steve glanced up, his jaw dropping. The Dora had rigged a chute of sorts, enabling them to dig down without risking the sides of the rescue shaft collapsing. Three warriors were above Fadyazi, working to strengthen the sides with a silent determination that filled Steve with gratitude. He flexed his hands and turned to help the warrior next to him, who was using some kind of handheld device to reduce the concrete below her feet to dust.

Bucky emerged feet first, unmoving. Steve squashed the thought that his friend was hurt and instead poked him in the thigh, rewarded with a half-hearted kick.

“Keep that up, Barnes, and I’ll leave you there.” Fadyazi snapped, glancing at Steve, who stiffened in shock. Had the Dora just _winked_ at him? Bucky froze obediently, waiting as they unearthed him.

“Oh.” Steve felt his relief waver as his friend’s arm was freed. It had been damaged before the explosion but now it was in tatters, the ragged end sparking feebly. Bucky, wriggling sideways, gave it a rueful glance as he shook dust out of his face.

“Thank you.” He looked up at the Dora, who leaned down and yanked him up into a hug. Startled, he stared at Steve over her shoulder, squeezing the warrior just as tightly. Steve shrugged, mystified.

“You two are taking up valuable space.” She drew back and wrinkled her nose at the dust drifting from Bucky. “Please let us rescue our king.”

“We can help.” Steve offered, getting a withering look in response.

“You are exhausted and he is damaged. Get back to the surface and let us do our jobs.” She caught Bucky’s eye. “We will speak later.”

Steve nodded, feeling an ache settle in his bones. Whatever had prevented the house falling onto them had weakened and by the time their rescuers had drawn closer, there had been a substantial weight resting on Steve’s chest. Suddenly desperate to see the sky, he hooked an arm around Bucky and boosted him up the thin ladder dangling down the side of the shaft.

Bucky clambered up the ladder awkwardly, not daring to look up to see how much further he had to climb. With one arm feeling like it weighed a ton and the other no longer even there, he felt ungainly and lopsided, and had to concentrate on not falling backwards onto Steve, who was crowding him from below, apparently eager to get out of the narrow tube.

Hands gripped both his shoulders and he was lifted out into the open, stumbling against the debris, and half-slid down the rubble towards the ground.

“Layal’s down there.” He muttered. Steve glanced at him, climbing out on his own, then touched a hand to his ear.

“Is there any sign of her?” He asked.

“I think so.” Shuri didn’t sound very confident. “There’s something. Give me a minute.”

“Why did they aim for us?” Bucky asked, clutching the remains of his arm and squinting up at Steve. “They should have rescued T’Challa first.” Steve opened his mouth to argue, then thought about it and glanced back at the Dora Milaje, who were ignoring them.

“My brother is protected.” Shuri replied. Bucky’s breath caught and he ducked his head, pretending to cough. Pain rocked his chest and he descended into a real coughing fit, scowling. Did the princess mean what he hoped she meant? “His suit hardened against the collapse and prevented any injury.”

His hopes fell and he exhaled slowly, doubt settling into a heavy band around his chest. Using the sloping rubble, he pushed himself up onto his feet and started to slide down towards the outbuilding. Concentrating on not falling on his face, he pushed every other thought out of his head until he was on flat ground, his steps outlined with dust.

Shaking his head at the guard who approached him with a water bottle, he turned away and sought the meagre shade stretching out behind the shed, dropping to the ground.

They’d been so close. He’d had Layal out of the chair and ready to leave - and still Zemo outsmarted them. T’Challa was alive – so far as they knew – so the Sokovian had failed in both his missions but Bucky was too tired and in too much pain to feel much beyond despair.

 _“I have to tell you something.”_ He’d said. Why hadn’t he told her right then, instead of delaying it for a more dramatic moment?

Because he hadn’t figured out what he wanted to say, so he’d said nothing. And now she’d disappeared, halfway through a dose of super serum that would transform her into something-

He opened his eyes, determined not to go down that particular path, at least until he was alone with a punching bag. Letting his head fall back against the side of the building with a hollow thud, he watched as the Dora Milaje continued their work, flowing around Steve until deciding to put him to work. It took another hour, during which Shuri remained mercifully silent, but eventually there was a shout and a flurry of activity.

Steve disappeared down the tunnel and Bucky got to his feet, his muscles protesting. By the time he’d scrambled back up the pile of bricks and steel, everyone was carefully climbing back out of the shaft, balancing a dark shape between them.

Bucky stumbled, tripping over what looked like the remains of a table. They weren’t lifting the king out of the shaft, they were lifting a black mass, coated in dust and heavy enough to put a determined expression on Steve as he strained to roll it over the edge.

A probe zipped past Bucky’s ear, spinning around the shape as Shuri examined it. Bucky climbed up after it more slowly, only half-aware of the warriors drawing apart so he could approach.

He reached a tentative hand to the shell, unsurprised at how cold it felt.

“If you are with me and I am safe, then you are safe.” His voice sounded calm but his chest was fluttery. Steve shifted, recognising the words.

“You think...?” He began. Bucky pressed harder, flattening his palm against the cold surface. It didn’t react.

“Layal!”

The shell bowed slightly then collapsed, melting and retreating around the two people lying inside it. T’Challa blinked up at them, surprised to find Layal’s arms wrapped around him, her eyes closed tightly against the sunlight.

Bucky was jostled to one side as the rescuers swarmed in, carefully separating the two and helping the king to his feet. Layal was scooped up by Steve, who cradled her carefully as he picked his way down towards safe ground. Bucky stared at the edge of the rescue shaft, unable to trust his own balance enough to turn and follow.

“Come down now.” A hand rested lightly on his arm and he glanced up; Fadyazi was watching him with more warmth than he’d ever seen and he remembered that she was privy to everything he and Layal had ever talked about. “Come down and see that she’s safe.”


	22. Chapter 22

“You saved those men’s lives.” Shuri’s voice floated through Bucky’s weariness and he forced a smile. She didn’t look convinced but continued anyway. “The unit you locked them in survived the explosion and they were dug out by people from the village. You should be pleased.”

“I probably should.” He agreed, staring at his knees. They had returned to Wakanda the evening before, Steve checked over for injuries before being packed off to his apartment so they could concentrate on making sure T’Challa was unharmed. Bucky had watched Shuri repair her brother’s ribs, crushed in the collapse before Layal had safely encased him, the young genius brushing off the king’s protests with a few well-worded barbs. As the king sat up and flexed his healed torso, an engineer had arrived to start the complicated process of separating Bucky from the remains of his arm.

It was uncomfortable but nowhere as painful as having it installed had been, and he’d watched with a detached curiosity until weariness had him jerking awake and upsetting the engineer. Shuri had told him off then, much to T’Challa’s amusement, and had given him a sedative so he’d sleep through the rest of the operation without irritating anyone.

Now he was awake and uncomfortably aware that time had been passing without him. Being sedated wasn’t nearly as terrible as being frozen but he was still trying to quell the helplessness that threatened to overtake him.

“You’re not the only hero though.” Shuri smiled faintly at him, enjoying the moment. Bucky glanced up at her then away, trying to affect disinterest. Pouting, the princess nudged him. “She’s downstairs.”

“In her apartment?”

“No.” Shuri sat down next to him, fiddling with her bracelet. The wall opposite lit up, showing a room from several different views. All of them were blank. With a flick of her wrist, she filtered the view into infra-red and Bucky sat up straighter.

Layal was lying on the floor, her shadow spread out like a blanket around her. It moved, spreading out before retracting. It drew up underneath her and he realised she was lifting herself up off the floor.

“She’s in a containment unit for now.” Shuri said. “She hasn’t slept since she woke up, and she’s been experimenting.”

“What else can she do?”

“We don’t know yet.” The princess turned to him and he could see the scientist battling the teenager. “She’s being held with a UV barrier until we can discover exactly what she’s capable of. Her shadow wasn’t visible to the cameras before, and it is now. We need to see what else has changed.”

“That makes sense.” He heard himself say. His voice was remarkably even, considering he was equal parts numb and guilty. “Has she said much?”

“She asked if everyone was safe.”

He nodded slowly, watching. She had dropped back to the floor and was lying on her back, her hands neatly folded on her stomach.

“Her triggers are different to yours.” Shuri sounded entirely too casual. “We’ll need a benchmark, if we are to de-programme her.”

“Have you asked her?” Bucky knew what it felt like to have no control and wouldn’t wish it on anyone.

“No. We were waiting for you to wake up.” Shuri grinned. “I figured you lab rats would want to stick together.” Nodding, he stared at his feet. A shoulder nudged him and he glanced up, surprised to see the princess watching him carefully. “You’re the only one who knows what could be going on in her mind now. Captain Rogers was given a choice about his serum. You weren’t.”

“If she refuses...”

“That might not happen.”

“But if it does...” He lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug, the lack of weight reminding him of what he’d lost. He glanced at the sleeve covering the metal plates left behind. Removing them would be a major undertaking and he had spent the night weighing up the pros and cons of surgery. Even here, with the technology available and the bubbly scientist sitting next to him, he didn’t think he could face even more deconstruction.

“You asked her to trigger you for a reason. Don’t you think she would be willing to do this herself if you were involved, for the same reason?”

The containment cell was very similar to Zemo’s, except there was glass on every surface. UV light was sandwiched between two tinted plates so although the entire perimeter was lit, Layal herself was shielded from the light. It made Bucky wonder again if Stark had been right and she would have been better off back in her original tank.

There was a clunk as the inner door was released and he stepped into the room, tugging his jacket tighter. The room was noticeably colder but Layal was still dressed in a light tunic, sitting against the side of her bed.

“Hey.” He ignored the chair, dropping to the floor close to the plain glass that split the room in two.

“Hello.” She was holding her shadow back, drawn around her feet.

“How are you feeling?”

She stared at the floor for a long moment, finally looking up to meet his gaze.

“It’s strange.” She took in his clothes, the empty sleeve neatly pinned out of the way. “What happened?”

“I broke it.” He grinned, surprised that the lightness of his reply came so easily. “But don’t worry about it. I’m more worried about you.”

“Worried?” She looked startled.

“What Zemo did, it was my fault.” He spoke softly, letting his head fall against the glass. “I’m so sorry.” It was all he’d been able to think the entire flight home and now, saying it out loud, it sounded tiny and vastly underwhelming.

Her shadow surged, spreading towards him, and he glanced up. She shifted, moving to lean against the glass - not the wall, with its UV barricade hidden - her back as close to his knee as she could manage.

“I don’t blame you, and you shouldn’t either.” She matched his quiet tone. “I’m not dead and I’m not Empty.”

“But you’re here.” He tapped the glass and she laughed.

“I was here before, I was just further down the hall.” She risked a glance at him. “And I had company. I had no company before I left the base and it wasn’t terrible.”

“But it was worse.”

“Stop.” She turned to face him, her eyes black and burning. “Stop. It is what it is. And now, I have a trigger, and you’re here to make sure it doesn’t work. I know that.”

“That’s not why I’m here.”

“But it’s why I need you to be here.” The darkness around her ankles flexed and retreated, disappearing from view only to creep down her wrists. “Please.”

“You think I could say no?” He snorted. “Anything you need...”

The test took place in the same cell, the ceiling rolled back to reveal a number of light sources. Layal watched impassively, her hands hidden beneath a rolling dark cloud. She stood to one side as the bed was moved upright, bolted securely to the wall, and shackles attached. Bucky wasn’t sure how effective they’d be against someone who could turn herself into a fine mist but Shuri seemed to have contingencies a dozen layers deep that he didn’t want to know about. T’Challa was present as well despite the advice of his generals. Even Steve was standing at the back of the room, watching with a stony expression.

Layal moved when directed, stretching out and staring at the far wall with a determination that gave Bucky a quick flash of pride. Recognising the emotion for what it was, he scowled. He had no right, he reminded himself grimly.

“Ready?” Shuri asked.

“What are the odds?” Layal asked, the same question that Bucky had posed himself when he’d been in the chair. The teenager chewed her lip, thinking.

“We started modelling the same simulations on your scans that we used for the tin man.” Shuri glanced at him. “As soon as you disappeared. We’ve run the same subliminal reprograming that we tried on Barnes. It didn’t work for him but his programming had been reinforced through constant use. Yours has only been used before you were loaded with the serum. You were learning to fight it even before then, so you stand a better chance of coming through this than he did.” Seeing that Layal’s expression hadn’t wavered, she touched a hand to her shoulder. “You’re more stubborn than he is. You’ll do better than he did.”

Bucky heard a snicker from behind him and rolled his eyes.

“Everyone out.” Shuri raised her voice and glared at them all. “Now. No arguments.” She added, seeing that Bucky was about to protest. A heavy hand came down on his shoulder.

“There’s an observation room.” T’Challa said, his tone suggesting Bucky should keep his opinion to himself. He cast one more look at Layal but she was staring at the ceiling, her chin set. Realising he was the weak link holding up the process, he followed everyone out and to a secure room down the hall.

“Set the lights.” T’Challa nodded to one of the two technicians seated before a central control panel. “The entire wing is surrounded by UV lights. If this goes wrong, there’s nowhere for her to go.”

“If this goes wrong, she won’t go anywhere unless she’s ordered to.” Bucky pointed out, earning identical looks from the siblings. Shrugging, he sat down so he wouldn’t start pacing, feeling his shoulder bunch up. If he’d still had his metal arm he’d be twisting his fingers into knots. Still, he was only watching. The real challenge was about to happen in the room next door. Taking a breath, he willed himself to sit still and watch.

Layal’s hands were trying to shake but she clamped her shade around them tighter, feeling them ache in protest. She’d been testing her limits since she’d woken up in the cell, her initial panic fading when she realised it was Fadyazi who was standing on the other side of the glass.

“What did I do?” She’d asked. The warrior had said nothing.

“Is everyone okay?” She’d tried again. The warrior had smiled, nodded, and left. It wasn’t much of an answer but it was enough, and Layal had spent the rest of the time staring at her shadow and feeling the room around her.

She knew there was light hidden behind the walls, on every side. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that everyone was safe and she... what was she? She was changed, that was certain. Zemo had burned her with the lights, stripping her down to her bare soul, then the world had gone dark. She remembered Bucky whispering to her, his arm warm around her, then a heavy darkness. Bucky had been safe with Steve, and she had gone to T’Challa, alone and crushed until she’d arrived.

After that, she didn’t remember much. But if Fadyazi had smiled at her then she couldn’t have hurt the king, surely?

It wasn’t until Bucky had arrived and sat with her that the worry caught in her throat started to ease, and it wasn’t until everyone, including T’Challa, had arrived for her test, that she allowed herself to think about anything else. They were safe and she’d done her job, and now she had to prove she was trustworthy.

The door opened and Fadyazi stepped into the cell, holding a flat board. Expressionless, she stared at Layal for a long moment, then turned the board around.

There was a symbol on it. Layal stiffened; it reminded her of Zemo but she couldn’t think why. Feeling her pulse pick up, she forced her shadow down to her feet, splaying her fingers to prevent herself pulling her hands into fists. She could hear her own breathing, harsh in the quiet room, and darkness flickered at the edge of her vision. Her shadow was trying to rebel and she bit her lip. The handlers at the base had done something similar, she recalled, the memory hazy. Then, she’d blacked out - no, that wasn’t right. She’d gone Empty.

The realisation washed through her in a wave of revulsion and she stopped breathing. Relaxing abruptly, she sagged back, held up by the supports around her arms.

“That won’t work.” She said quietly. “I’m not a Hydra asset and I refuse to comply.”


	23. Chapter 23

Bucky paused at the door, frowning. He held two mugs balanced one on top of the other, and no way of knocking. It was a sign, he decided. He should really turn around and head back up to his own apartment before anyone realised he was there-

“Can I help you, Sergeant Barnes?” Fadyazi was leaning against her own doorway, watching him with the kind of smile that reminded him of his own mother when she suspected he was up to something relatively harmless.

“Yes please.” He managed to prevent himself adding the ‘ma’am’, knowing she’d probably shut the door again and leave him standing there like an idiot. Smirking at him, she crossed the hall and knocked sharply.

“Good luck, Sergeant.” She was gone again before he could reply, then the door was opening.

“Hello.”

“Hello.” He grinned, suddenly nervous. “I thought I’d bring you something.”

“Come in.” She stood to one side and he stepped inside, catching his shoe on the doorframe. The mugs tilted but she was faster, snatching them up in a flash of darkness. “What is it?” She closed the door and lifted the top mug to sniff it suspiciously. He took the bottom one, his hand brushing her shade.

“Hot chocolate.” He put it down on the kitchen counter, still not used to having to do everything single-handed. She set hers down next to his cup.

“Thank you.”

“Um.” At a loss, he ran his hand through his hair. “How did you go this morning?”

Shuri had been running tests every morning since Layal had broken her trigger, pushing to discover the limits the drug treatment had had. Before, she’d been able to manipulate things by a matter of increments, adding a few grams to a weight or reducing the temperature by a degree or two. Now, she could solidify her shade and use it as she pleased, lifting her own weight easily and more than capable of catching two hot coffee mugs. Her ability to withstand bright light had improved but her shadow and her skin still seemed impervious to heat, both much cooler than usual.

“I carried forty kilos through a wall.” She shrugged but he detected a note of pride in her voice. “Shuri is trying to convince Fadyazi to come with me tomorrow.”

“She’s not keen on the idea?”

“It’s... a big request.” Layal stared at the mug. “It’s too…” She tilted her head, trying to think of the right word. “Intimate. Maybe.”

“Try it.” He picked his one up, watching. She waited until he’d sipped his before taking her mug, inhaling the steam.

“It smells sweet.” She sipped it cautiously, her expression going from careful to delighted. “Oh!”

Bucky flushed, pleased that she’d liked it.

“I was going to bring this to you the day you went to see Zemo.” He put his mug down and turned towards the sofa, knowing she’d follow. “But I was dragging my heels. I remembered about the mission where I... stole you.”

“I knew you were upset.” She nodded. “I went to see Zemo to help T’Challa, because I knew I couldn’t help you, I’d just remind you of things the Soldier did.”

He touched a finger to her shoulder. Her shadow moved towards him, tickling slightly, and he felt himself smile, suddenly nervous.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.” He spoke quietly, almost a whisper. Her eyes widened.

“You were. You came for me. And you kept chasing until you found me.”

“Yeah, well.” He shrugged awkwardly. “I had something to tell you.”

“You still haven’t.” She observed.

“It wasn’t really something to say.” He hedged. Feeling his heart beating hard, he ran his hand up her arm, grazing her shoulder and running a finger down her jaw. “It was more... this.”

Her pulse was as jumpy as his own; he could see it. Taking that as the only sign he needed, he leaned forward.

The kiss was soft and cool and over far too soon. Bucky lifted his head, half-expecting to be dumped onto the floor, but Layal was watching him shyly, looking as nervous as he felt. Afraid to break the moment, he leaned back, curling his fingers around hers. Her gaze dropped to the mug still cradled in one hand.

“T’Challa has invited me to stay here.” She spoke softly. “I’m no longer a prisoner or a threat.” Looking up, her eyes were shining. “I’m free. I’m stronger than I was, I don’t have a trigger any longer. I can do what I want to do. No more handlers, no more watchers. Just… me.”

“And what do you want to do?”

“I want.” She lifted the cup, inhaling the sweet smell of chocolate. Casting him a sidelong glance, she leaned towards him slightly, nudging him. “I want to sit here, with you. I want to drink the nicest thing in the world, with you. I want…” Her eyes dropped to his lips and she flushed. He tried to smother a grin and failed. Letting his head fall forward, he rested his forehead against hers.

“Hot chocolate is easy.” He murmured. “The rest, we’ll get to later.”

“Thank you.” It was a whisper and he had no idea what she was referring to but it didn’t matter. Nothing could dent the warmth in his chest, a direct response to the coolness wrapping around him.

“I should be thanking you.” He chuckled. “I think you saved me first.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! This is the final chapter for this fic but it turns out there's more story to tell and I've been putting a few things together in fits and bursts. I don't have any idea when it will be done but I'm aiming to finish before starting to post, since I'm trying to avoid having an(other) unfinished story cluttering up the place.


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